Alive
by likeWHOArachel
Summary: AU DxS - used to be Paper Flowers;;  My name is Samantha Manson, and I saved the world. Cliche, I know. But I have to start somewhere, right?
1. Preface

AN: So I started this story about two years ago but went on Hiatus. Now, in rereading everything, I've decided I'd like to fix this up and bring it back. Please give me feedback; I don't know if this is the type of story anyone is interested in anymore.

Disclaimer: Sad to say, I don't own Danny Phantom. Also, I don't own TAPS, SciFi does. No, this is not a cross-over; however I liked the idea to tie the show to the real world. Never will Jason or Grant be major characters in the story, but they will be there. It is not vital to have seen the television show.

* * *

The following events are true. They may have started from my imagination, but they _did_ happen, and it's all very real. Take my words for what they're worth-believe me, or call my story rubbish, because I really don't care. I just need to tell someone, to save myself from insanity. I don't know, maybe I'm already too late from that. My name is Samantha Manson, and I saved the world. Cliché, I know. But I have to start somewhere, right?

I guess I should start out with the basics. I'm twenty one, I am studying for a degree in Animal Sciences, and I live in an apartment near my college. Normal, right? Wrong. Because I work for The Atlantic Paranormal Society, or TAPS as most people call it. Why, you might ask? I'm a medium. You know, a psychic. A freak of nature. Minor details, of course.

Everyone had an imaginary friend when they were a child, whether they admit to it or not. Before school begins, your parents are your best friends, and for some people, AKA me, you don't want to spend every waking hour with your parents. Thus, the imaginary friend is created-someone who you can run to when you're sad, someone who will play games with you, someone your age (or close to it) to keep you company. My parents weren't bothered by my talking to thin air; after all, it was a stage all children went through. But when I reached school and still had conversations with my imaginary friend, when I was always coming right home to spend time with him and completely disregarding the notation of friendship at school, they started to worry.

As a child, you truly believe that your imaginary friend is real, but I figured out that something was wrong when he started talking about the bad thing that was coming for him. When I was six, I started to understand him a bit more, and I realized that while other people had long lost their imaginary friends, mine still stuck around. The question 'Why?' led me to find that he remembered dying, something I knew wasn't right. After all, my imaginary friend wasn't supposed to be dead. He talked a lot about his life, and how he lived when there wasn't television and radio and all the fancy electronics we have today. He eventually told me that he was killed by a Confederate soldier as a warning to his Union family. Back then, the titles meant nothing to me, but after he was gone and I had learned about the Civil War, I was able to fully comprehend the situation.

By age seven, I had seen five doctors and six therapists-not a single one could tell my mom that there was something wrong with me. She, however, was completely convinced that I had been possessed by the devil or I was under the will of a ghost-something that probably wasn't far off from the truth. I had a tendency to draw my friend and strange places not known to man. I had taken on a more secluded persona, and my identity had transformed to a dark, medieval look. The kids called it gothic. I really didn't care. But my sunshine parents pitched a hissy because I didn't want to be like them. So naturally there had to be something severely wrong with my brain.

At this point I was only a year younger than Danny claimed to be. I had just gotten home from school, excited to no extent because I had received an 'A+' on an essay I had written. (And by essay I mean fantastic story that was created by the demented mind of a seven-year-old psychic) Instead of showing my parents, however, I ran straight up to my room to show Danny. He was happy for me, and we eventually decided to go outside in my backyard. Something was wrong, though. I could see it on his face. His goofy grin wasn't ear-to-ear, and his blue eyes were dull.

I asked him what was wrong, and he gave me the same cryptic response he had given me time and time before. "He's coming for me." Who was this 'he?' I didn't know, but I was going to find out. The hard way. Before I knew it, a bright magenta light engulfed everything, and I had to close my eyes to protect them from the intensity. When I mustered the courage to peek, I was greeted with deep red eyes glaring at me, a malicious smirk toying on the face of this stranger. I deftly noted that he also had pointed teeth and silvery hair (you know, the unnatural kind, not from old age) and I vaguely thought about his resemblance to some comic book villain.

What happened next was a blur. I remember him going after Danny, and I foolishly thought I could save him. I do, however, remember the livid eyes burning into my skull as his talon-like nails cut across the flesh of my abdomen, shredding my shirt and leaving me nearly unconscious on the grass, bleeding. I could hear Danny scream, and through the deafness and numbness I felt, I could hear him bargaining with the creature. The last words I heard were a faint whisper meant only for my ears. "I'll be back for you, Samantha."

Next thing I knew I was in a hospital bed, my distraught mother beside me. I could see the tear stains on her cheeks, and it looked like she hadn't slept in months. I had only been out for a few days, and luckily my injuries weren't very serious. I was soon released and headed back home. High and low I searched for my black-haired, blue-eyed friend, but to no avail. He was gone, and I was only left with withering memories of the past. I'd never see him again.

Tough childhood, huh? Well, that's my rendition of how I obtained my seeing powers. I did my best to tuck my powers in the very corner of my mind, and for my educational years, I succeeded. But when I met TAPS, I realized that those powers were a part of me that I couldn't get rid of, and I learned to accept myself. I became a part of the team, and for once it felt like I found a place in the world, a place just for me. Although I can't say that I really enjoy being used to draw a ghost out of hiding, I've proved to be a lot of help to the team. Plus, we weren't dealing with malevolent spirits. But, knowing me, you would know that that couldn't last for long.

And so the real story begins.


	2. Encounters

AN: And so the plot begins. Thanks for the reviews, I hope you all continue reading and enjoying this, and please let me know if you have feedback. I'd love to hear it. :) By the way, if you're wondering how I can update so fast, let me reiterate that this is a story I began two years ago and I still have the original chapters that I'm revamping. So yeah. For the first few chapters expect fast updates.

Disclaimer: Yep, you guessed it. As of this very moment, Danny Phantom doesn't belong to me, although if it did the tv series would be continuing. Also, TAPS doesn't belong to me, it goes to SciFi and Jason and Grant and whoever else came up with the television idea.

* * *

As if a 21-hour car ride wasn't enough for me, I was stuck in a van consisting of all men. Not to mention that they were all older than me, so I didn't understand their jokes either. It generally made for a quiet car ride unless they tried to talk to me. But that rarely happened, so I usually fell asleep. Now, this was before TAPS had hit the television, so luckily there weren't any cameras zoomed in on me. I was probably snoring anyway. Or drooling. Maybe both.

This time, however, I woke with a start. The red eyes again. They showed up a lot, in my dreams. Nightmares. Whatever you want to call them.

Grant, who was currently in the passenger seat, turned around and gave me a funny look before asking me if I was alright. "Uhh, yeah, I was just…startled because we, uhh, hit a bump and I was asleep." Yeah, I'm not that great a liar. I know.

I don't know if they were genuinely convinced or they just didn't feel like pursuing the matter, but they left it at that, and I let out a breath that I hadn't realized I had been holding.

Fortunately we were only about fifteen minutes out at that point, and I soon found myself staring at one of the largest sanatoriums I had ever seen in my life. The Waverly Hills Sanatorium: supposedly home to thousands of ghosts, many from the Civil War when hospitals were rare and disease was plaguing the country. This was going to be interesting. I already felt a headache coming on from the mere thought of a thousand ghosts all talking to me, trying to communicate with our world. Trust me, it's not as cool a talent as it sounds.

It seemed to take hours to set up all the equipment, but with good reason-after all, the building was a beast in size and probably not all the areas were safe, causing problems to reach them. We were splitting our investigation to two nights, so we could look into the entire building. It was already ten at night when we were ready for lights out, and the team had warned us that we'd probably be pulling an all-night investigation. I didn't mind, of course. I'm a night owl anyway. But the collective groan was duly noted.

I broke off with Dave and headed toward the body chute, while Jason and Grant went to the fourth floor and Steve and Dustin headed off somewhere to do EVPS. At first, there was nothing. Even with the sensitivity that I have, I heard nothing, and I saw nothing. It felt dead-no pun intended.

When Grant called Dave on his walkie-talkie, I figured it was to go ahead and call it a night-after all, we weren't getting any activity. But Grant called us up to the fourth floor to talk. When we got there, he told me that he wanted me to stay-alone-in the fourth floor for a bit and see if anything was going to happen. I agreed, and moved over to where a ball had been placed for an alleged ghost child that liked moving it around.

For a few minutes, nothing happened. Then I heard the faint echo of a voice humming. It sounded small and high pitched-a child's voice. Now, being sensitive means that I can feel the energy in the air, and the heavier it is signifies a probable entity in the area. Lo and behold, the air started getting heavy. Lucky me.

The minute I asked it to speak to me, everything stopped. I could feel the energy lessen; I could sense that whatever it was was retreating. So, I started a conversation. "Hey, it's alright, none of us are here to hurt you. We just want to understand what's going on here." I guess the only people I'm ever civil to are ghosts, and you can hold me to that if you want. But hey, it's a kid, and I didn't want to be mean.

Slowly I felt the energy return, and for a second I felt proud that I had called the spirit back. So, I asked it again if it could talk to me. And then I finally got a response.

The voice was small, just like the humming I had heard. And, although it was high, it sounded like a young boy. "But he'll get mad if I talk to you." Why were ghosts always so damn cryptic?

"He who?" I asked in return. Well, at least he was talking to me.

"My brother. He gets angry whenever I let people know I'm here. They always put a ball out for me to play with, but I don't get to play with it much because he says it's bad." Well, we were getting somewhere.

"It's okay, I promise I'm not here to hurt you or your brother. I just want to know what's going on, why you guys are still here." I generally didn't get afraid whenever I had conversations with spirits, mainly because I could tell that they weren't troublesome or evil.

"Well, I don't really know. I came here with my parents a long time ago. We were all really sick. And the doctor said he would help us. I can't remember much, all I know is that I ended up here, and my parents didn't ever find me. Say, you look funny." At first I thought it was an insult, but then I realized it was most likely the fact that even though he had probably seen modern-day people, he never saw anyone quite like me. I guess it's a compliment. So I chose to ignore the comment completely.

"What about your brother though? Wasn't he with you?" Unfortunately, children weren't the most reliable source of information, and it seemed that I already hit a bump in the road since he didn't say a thing about the brother he had previously mentioned.

"Oh, well, he's not my real brother. He came here a few years ago, and he takes care of me." The child seemed pretty lost, and I felt bad for him. Not to mention that if his past was correct, he felt that his parents had abandoned him. At least another spirit had the kindness to take him in, but I didn't understand why this said spirit didn't want him playing when people were around.

"So, why does your brother not want you to talk to people or anything?"

"I'm not really sure. He says that if someone finds out he's here, then he'll be taken away, and I'll be by myself again."

"Do you know who will take him away?" The story was getting deeper and deeper, and quite confusing as well. Now I was interested in his brother more, and maybe if I could just talk to him…

"No, he just said that whoever it is is a bad guy who wants to hurt him." And by the sound of it, I would have to find this brother for myself to get the entire story. But how do you find a ghost that doesn't want to be found?

I thought it was best to talk to the child a bit more, make him see me as a friend-then, maybe, he would be able to get the other out. "Well, my name is Sam. What's your name?"

"I can't remember what my parents called me, but my brother calls me-"

"Timmy, what do you think you're doing?" An enraged voice broke through the quite calm conversation, and I could feel the second presence enter the hallway. Oh, was he mad. I started tensing up in response, partly from the voice and partly from the heavy tension that now hung in the air.

"No, it's okay, she's a good person, even if she looks funny..." he spoke back softly. I could hear the fear in his voice. And it was my fault in a way that he got in trouble, which sent me on a guilt trip. Children didn't need to be punished for something that wasn't their fault, regardless if they were dead. Guess it was Sam to the rescue.

"Look, I'm not here to kick you guys out or anything, I just need to find out-" I was cut off by the angry ghost, however, which made me bite my tongue to remain civil. And I mean, I was pretty damn close to drawing blood.

"I don't know what you've told Timmy to convince him that you're actually a good person, but I know it's all a lie. Human intervention can only lead to bad things. You're just another hunter who wants to catch a ghost and run crazy experiments." Great. Apparently, I was the bad guy in this situation, and I was being put down by someone who was dead.

"Look, I'm a medium, not a hunter. I'm not here to capture you, I'm not here to remove you, my team and I just want answers, and since I'm the only sensitive one on the team, I'm the one who was sent in to do it. I'm only here to help," I ended, my temper flaring. Ignorant ghosts weren't my cup of tea, and since I wasn't a people person, it didn't make a good mix.

"You think I'm going to fall for this? I wasn't born yesterday. All of you are the same. You just want answers? Yeah, right. You want to know everything you can about ghosts, and you'll do anything to get those answers. I learned the hard way to not trust anyone, and I'm not about to give up on that."

Okay, he pissed me off. I don't care what he had been through; he was judging me before he even heard my story. I couldn't be civil any longer.

"Me? I'm the bad one? Get a grip. You can't judge me by past events, and if you do, then you're just insecure and afraid. You're not the only one who's been hurt in the past, you know. I was nearly killed by a ghost, and yet I still stand here today, and I don't hold a grudge against all ghosts. If you had half a mind you would understand that concept. But it's obvious that you don't want help and you can take on whatever is after you, and I don't want to get involved with a ghost who is an ignoramus. It's just a shame that you would let Timmy suffer because you can't get over something that doesn't have anything to do with me." Probably a little more than necessary, but it also got my point across. Bet you he still doesn't know some of the words I said.

For a while, I heard silence. Then, to my surprise, I heard the ghost I assumed was Timmy.

"I really think she could help us. Please, give her a chance." For the first time, I actually had a ghost sticking up for me. How ironic.

"What could you do? You're dealing with people who aren't alive. The rules are different." The response was delayed, and his voice was very muffled, like he was speaking through his teeth. Superiority complex, much?

"Look, how long have you been here? I know you couldn't have died here, because Timmy said that you haven't been here very long, and this place closed up at least a century ago."

"I don't know, four years? It's not like I keep a calendar." Sarcasm. Just what I need-a dose of my own medicine. Guess it was coming for me sooner or later.

"So, are you telling me you aren't physically tied to any one location?" This was certainly something that was different. I didn't think ghosts could easily move around from place to place. Scratch that, I know regular ghosts can't move from place to place.

"No. Am I supposed to be?" The malice in his voice was easily detectable, and I really wasn't looking forward to helping this guy. I could tell we weren't going to get along.

"All I'm saying is that if you aren't tied here, you can be relocated. Then Timmy isn't in any danger."

"No way. I'm not leaving him alone. This isn't the Witness Protection Program." I should have figured that reasoning was beyond this ghost's comprehension.

"There are other ghosts here. He'll be safe if you aren't around, because by the sound of it, someone is after you and will take out anything or anyone who gets in his way."

"Why do you want to help me anyway?" I could tell he was avoiding the fact that I made a point. Score one for Sam, Mr. Enigma zero.

"Because I know what it feels like to have the one thing that was your sanctuary taken away from you. I know what it feels like to be left with nothing." And this time, I actually meant what I said to him. "Look, I should probably get going. We're going to be back here tomorrow night to cover the rest of the place, so be ready to give me an answer." With that, I walked out.

As I returned to the group, I felt like I betrayed them all. Because the minute Timmy began speaking, I turned the power off my devices, and when they asked what happened, I lied to the only people who really understood me. I told them "not much."


	3. Decisions

AN: It does feel rather odd to be working on this again. I haven't written in Sam's POV in so long. Please give me feedback guys, I can't stress enough how much it influences my chapters.

Disclaimer: Nothing has changed. I still don't own DP or TAPS.

* * *

We ended up leaving the Sanatorium around 3 in the morning, and didn't get to our hotel rooms until 4. Jason decided that we wouldn't analyze until the second night of investigation, so that gave us an entire day to sleep. That didn't really bother me-after all, I am a night creature.

I still had to figure out how I would sneak over to the fourth floor. We were investigating the West side of the building, so it was going to have to be convincing to let me go all the way across to the other side. I didn't feel like thinking about it right then, though; I let darkness sink in and I drifted asleep.

I woke up at around 3 in the afternoon, and I immediately groaned as the sun blinded me, illuminating my entire room. I told you, total creature of the night. After adjusting to this, I felt the need to shower, and then get dressed.

I met the team down in the lobby of the hotel, and we were heading back to the sanatorium again. For the brief car ride, I started brainstorming of ideas so that I could head back over to the fourth floor. I finally settled on me 'seeing a spirit heading that way' and following it. Maybe, if I ran fast enough, I could loose whoever I was paired up with.

It felt like déjà vu as we set up and the lights snapped out. I was, once again, paired with Dave, which was a good thing-he was new, and he probably would not follow me.

The West side proved more active with spirits, so each investigator had his hands tied up with EVPS and thermals. I felt it was the perfect time to go, and so I simply stated "Hey, come back here!" and ran off, leaving Dave completely confused. He shouted after me, and then I think he caught on, because I could hear his faint voice paging Jason saying that I ran after a ghost.

Great, my partner thinks I'm psycho. Oh well.

It took a long time before I found the fourth floor. After all, it was pitch black, and not only am I directionally impaired, but I generally fall. A lot.

Two bruises and cuts later, I finally found the ball that had been left on the floor, and I knew that I was in the right place.

It didn't take long before I felt the familiar thickness of the air and the cool breeze that tickled the back of my neck. He immediately spoke, which confirmed that it was the older of the two.

"Look, before I make up my mind, I have some questions." It wasn't a question, but a demand, and I felt a scowl fall on my face. Thickhead.

"Fine." My teeth were gritted, and I was sure he heard, because his voice became considerably more irritated.

"Who's to say you aren't just trying to lure me out so you can capture me?" It felt like a stab, but I ignored his rude remark.

"If I had wanted to capture you, I would have last night," I pointed out, plain and simply. Was he still convinced that I was after him too? Man, this guy had trust issues.

"Okay, so where and how would you be taking me?" I could tell he was insecure about this, but I wasn't going to target him on being fearful. Angry spirits weren't good to be around. And I wondered why I had even offered to do this in the first place.

"Considering the fact that I'm the only one who can see you, you could just stow away in our van. Or, if you have your own method of getting back to Warwick, be my guest and suggest something." I was pretty sure he picked up on the fact that I was trying to get him to find a different way to go so I wouldn't have to tolerate him the entire ride back, because I could hear a huff of impatience. And he openly stated it.

"Well, if you think I'm that repulsive that you don't want me in your vehicle, I can follow you via flying," he grudgingly stated.

"So, are you going then?" I asked, ignoring his remark.

"You still haven't told me where I would be staying," he pointed out bluntly. I think he felt that I was going to betray him still.

"It's summer, which means I'm not in college right now. I guess I could move back to my house in Amity Park-it's not far from Warwick. My parents moved away and left the entire thing to me, so…" I trailed off, leaving the topic open for him to, as I was sure he would, object.

"Why, does it have some secret lab or something?" Yeah, childish rebuttal. I wasn't sure how old he was, but he couldn't have been much older than me.

"No, it's huge, and everyone thinks that no one lives in it. It's the safest place, unless you'd rather live at the TAPS headquarters," I replied sarcastically, something he picked up on.

He grunted. "Fine." I had waited for a good ten seconds before I heard this response, and by this point I had already thought of what I was going to say.

"Alright, but I have one request. Since you'll be living with me, I need to know what you look like." I was sure he was going to object some more, but instead he did something completely different.

He materialized.

I had seen apparitions before; I knew that ghosts looked like humans, just transparent. But somewhere inside of me, I had created a mental image of an ugly creature with one eye, flaky yellow skin, and fangs. Vivid imagination, I know. After all, it matched his personality.

Trust me, I completely resent saying this-he was, for lack of better word, beautiful. His skin was pale, but it was soft, not ugly and dead-looking. His hair was a brilliant shade of alabaster, and it fell in his eyes messily. And his eyes-they were green, but not emerald-more like an apple, and they held such intensity as they glowered at my face, something I didn't miss.

He had on a black shirt and dark wash jeans, something I'm sure he stole since he seemed to be an older spirit. As far as looks went, though, he looked a few years around my age. He looked human-except for the ethereal glow that encompassed his body, the only thing that let me see his features.

"Let me guess-you were expecting some troll-like creature that was ugly and monstrous, right?" His words cut through my thoughts, and I shook off the blank look from my face and the familiar scowl returned.

"Well, that would certainly fit your personality, wouldn't it?" I couldn't help it. What can I say? I'm a bitch.

"It was a mistake to trust y-" He never finished his sentence. I heard him exhale a staggered breath, and that's when I new something was wrong. Ghosts didn't breathe.

I could see his eyes widen and fill with fear, but my attention was taken by a voice that echoed in the hallway.

"You thought you could escape from me, boy?" The voice was definitely male, dark, sinister-something I had heard before. "Oh, look. He's found himself a human girl to help him." The sickly-sweet sarcasm dripping from his words made me want to punch this guy in the face-but, considering the fact that he had none, I felt it best to stand still.

"How did you find me?" The ghost had choked it out, like he had the breath knocked out of him.

"Many years of searching, talking to other ghosts. But that's all over now, because I have you, and I'm going to finish what I started," the other replied, clearly determined. I saw a bright flash of magenta, and I didn't have time to dodge it.

But it never struck-instead, a hole was made in thin air. Green, swirling mist danced in the center of the hall, and I realized that this must have been the other's transportation device, because the visible ghost muttered "You can create a portal now?" before dodging a ray of magenta.

The older ghost was still invisible, which probably made it hard for the first to locate. I pressed against the wall, trying to avoid the situation. What had I gotten myself into?

The one second of regret that I felt was just what the older ghost had apparently been waiting for. A beam had been shot, directly towards me, and I felt like I was a deer in the headlights. For a split second, I could have sworn I saw a pair of fiery red eyes as I jumped out of the way.

But I had jumped right into the green mist. A twist in my stomach told me that I was falling into the abyss. And I braced myself for the inevitable death that was sure to follow.


	4. Race

AN: So this is the missing chapter. Sorry for any who got confused!

* * *

There were a few problems with the current situation.

One: I just fell into a swirling mist that had come from nowhere. And

Two: I was still falling.

Shouldn't I have hit the ground by now? For a few seconds I figured I was imagining the current situation. After all, there was no way that this story was real. I bet you're even having a hard time believing me at this point.

The next thing I felt was cold. Very, very cold. And had my eyes not been screwed shut from the terror and the bracing of impact, I'd have actually known what caused it.

I never hit. Instead, I heard a gruff "you can open your eyes, you know," which caused my eyes to slowly peek open. Maybe I was hallucinating. Because I most definitely was flying.

I noticed then that the cold feeling was coming from the set of arms wrapped around me. Of course my first instinct was to punch whatever guy thought he could hold me like that, but when I looked I realized that it was Mr. Enigma, AKA the attractive ghost with an ugly personality.

He, however, was the least of my problems. As I looked around I realized we were, indeed, in air, and I instantly tensed up, clutching his shirt in a reaction. I mean, come on, you'd be terrified if you were in the sky in the middle of nowhere with no sign of ground.

"Ow!" he snapped, annoyed at my grip. Guess I caught some skin with my nails. Good. He did deserve it. Of course, he saved me. I think. I still wasn't sure at that point if he was about to drop me and let me fall into oblivion.

Eventually there was a small island floating in the middle of nowhere. Yes, I mean floating, as in suspended mid-air with no sign of support. He landed and put me down rather roughly, which earned him a scowl.

Not only did there seem to be a lack of gravity about this place, it was all green. Don't get me wrong, green is a great color; but when you're surrounded by green mist with no sun, no clouds, and no ground, it's a bit...disturbing.

"Where are we?" I managed to choke out, still overwhelmed by the sensation of flying. He rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed with me.

"_We _are in the Ghost Zone because _you_ were clumsy enough to fall through the portal." Geez, this guy was a jerk. I folded my arms across my chest, glaring at him.

"It's not my fault that your little friend showed up and tried to kill me!" I returned, my temper rising with each word. "And what the hell is a 'ghost zone' anyway?" I added as a side note, before looking around to observe the area once more.

I saw him roll his eyes, huffing in aggravation. "Are you familiar with the Catholic perception of purgatory?" he then asked, suppressing his anger a little bit.

I stared at him, before shaking my head, which earned another scowl. "What? I'm Jewish," I added in defense, before he continued.

"The Catholics believed that there was a place situated between Heaven and Hell where all spirits would go to be judged after they died. Unfortunately, the judge located in this place, purgatory, ran into a problem. Every so often a restless spirit would show up. This was usually from a person who was murdered or died abruptly. Something about the process was messed up, which caused in a spirit to be disoriented and often not whole. While these spirits certainly weren't deemed evil enough to be sent to the levels of Hell, they were not wholesome and peaceful enough to be sent to Heaven.

"Purgatory then became a place for these spirits to be contained. The judge created something that is similar to a prison to keep the spirits from escaping. Of course that didn't last for too long. Some of the spirits became more powerful than the judge who tried to contain them, which resulted in revolt. There are still many ghosts trapped in Walker's prison, but the strong ones have escaped and made this their home.

"Some claimed pieces of land, kind of like this one but larger, for themselves. And most of them created doors to other dimensions, most of which leading to Earth. Some want to watch their families, and some just want to torment humans." He gave a small shrug as he finished, and I nodded slowly, taking everything in.

Something, however, didn't quite make sense. "But how did we end up here? All of the sudden a portal just appeared out of nowhere."

"Some really powerful ghosts can create portals without having a door. They can literally rip a hole between dimensions, but like you saw, they don't last for more than a few seconds." Ok, that made a little more sense, but at the same time it was a bit scary to think that we were dealing with a really powerful ghost.

"So are we just going to go through one of those doors?" I asked, pointing up to the few that were floating above.

He shook his head in response. "Have you not been listening? Those are doors created by other ghosts. They could lead to a different dimension, or anywhere in the world."

I gave him another glare. Really, the hit on my intelligence wasn't needed. "So, oh great and powerful and wise ghost, what are we going to do?" I asked, sarcasm shooting right back. No one insults Sam Manson and gets away with it.

The ghost glared at me, and I could tell he was seriously regretting the fact that I'm with him. "_I _am going to get the infi-map from the Far Frozen. It shows every single portal in the ghost realm and where it leads to."

"So you're just going to leave me here?" I snorted, not believing that he was just going to ditch me like that, in a place I had no idea how to cope in.

"That's the plan," he returned gruffly, before starting to take off. He didn't have very long though, because something fired some sort of beam at him that knocked him back down beside me.

"Skulker," I could hear the ghost mutter with dread. "What's a skulker?" I asked, watching the huge armored apparition shoot again.

"1007, I have strict orders to return you to your master. Comply or I'll have your pelt for a rug in my home!" Ew. Ok, ghost or not, that's not normal. "I also have orders to destroy the human child. She has seen too much."

"Hey! I'm not a child," I shot back angrily, before the ghost gave me a glare.

The ghost, apparently 1007, shot back at the large figure, and a fight ensued. A few times I had to dodge shots that were sent in my direction, and I nearly slipped off the small piece of land a few times.

There was a huge blast suddenly, and I shielded my eyes from the light, before I felt myself being lifted off the ground. I nearly screamed before I saw that it wasn't the armored ghost, but the other ghost-1007. As we hurriedly flew away, I could have sworn I saw a tiny little creature being separated from the armor. It was probably just my imagination.

"New plan?" I asked weakly, feeling a bit nauseous. That cold sensation didn't help either.

He gave a curt nod. "Obviously you've got a bounty on your head too. We're still going to the Far Frozen, then we're getting out of here."

I really didn't like the sound of having a bounty on my head. Not in a world that I wasn't familiar with. Everything was spinning as I tried desperately to comprehend.

By the time I opened my eyes I realized it wasn't just the ghost that was making me cold, but the fact that we were over some sort of ice land. We landed, and he let go of me, stepping forward to this huge creature that kind of looked like a yeti with horns and fangs.

Not going to lie, the things scared me. And most of them were watching me, probably wondering why he brought a human to their realm. I took a small step forward, staying behind the ghost.

In spite of everything that was going on, he seemed to soften up as the huge creature handed him a scroll. He quickly thanked the other, grabbed me, and we were off again.

Well, I was kind of getting used to flying. Not to say I enjoyed it by any means, but it wasn't quite as much of a shock.

A quiet settled between us, but it was kind of awkward. After a while I tried to fill it, at least somewhat. "You know, I just realized I don't even know your name," I started, glancing up at him. He looked down at me slightly. "I...don't think I have one," he then admitted rather sheepishly, something so different from how he had been behaving.

"Well, what do you want to go by? I'm Sam," I then added, not sure if I had ever introduced myself.

He thought for a few seconds, before nodding as a thought came to him. "Phantom."


	5. Returning

AN: Another chapter already. To be honest, I'm not quite sure where this is going. Review!

Disclaimer: I'm getting tired of typing this, but considering the fact that I could get in trouble, I will anyway.

You know the drill. I don't own anything. Yep.

* * *

I could tell Phantom was struggling as he tried to pull the flaps back on the map and figure out where we needed to go. He held a look of determination, yet I could see in his apple eyes that he was worried. Deeply worried-and I could only wonder what this Plasmius had done to him.

"I think we're getting close to the door we'll exit through. It'll take us to New York-Central Park, actually." He was in concentration, and I couldn't help but say something back.

"But shouldn't we find a door that's closer to-"

"No. It's close enough, and we want to lead Plasmius on a goose chase. Since it's in a different state, we'll be able to make our way back undetected."

I didn't feel like arguing, and instead I turned to look around us. According to Phantom, there were different 'domains' of ghosts who resided in the Ghost Zone. Even without the map, I could make an assumption of who lived where.

"Damn!" Phantom's curse broke my thoughts, and I looked back at him.

"What?" I asked, irritated. But turning to see where his eyes were told me all I needed to know.

It wasn't just one this time-it was a whole regime. I'd say about seventeen different ghosts made a barricade, blocking our way.

"I, Technus, declare you give up ghost!" A geeky-looking man who stood in the front shouted out, his hand pointing at Phantom. At first I didn't understand the gesture, until his other hand pushed a button on the watch on his wrist, shooting a beam that Phantom had told me was ectoplasmic energy.

Phantom dodged, his eyes still surveying the line. He started speaking, but it was when I realized how soft his voice was that I understood he was speaking to me.

"Looks like we're going to take a different way out."

"But where?"

"We'll go through a temporary portal. The map tells me how long I have until it closes. We'll go through at the last second, so they can't follow."

"But that could spit us out anywhere!"

"It's the only option. Why are you so ignorant?"

Our argument was interrupted as another, a woman with glowing flames for hair, stepped forward.

"Hey, lovebirds, give it up. You can't win. You're outnumbered." I could tell the term she used offended Phantom, too, because at the same time we both shouted "We're not lovebirds!"

"Whatever. We're blocking your only way out. Plasmius wouldn't want his experiment damaged, so why don't you just give up?" This time I saw a shadowy figure with a cloak. The voice sounded feminine, but I couldn't see the face.

"And what if I don't comply?" I could tell Phantom was stalling, because he glanced down at the map again to check his time. What the ghosts didn't realize was that there was a portal slowly disappearing to the left of them.

"Then you'll fear my boxes of doom!" A small, chubby man who held a box was speaking, but by the groans of the others, he apparently wasn't a real threat.

"That's just what I needed to hear." Phantom launched, diving to the portal. The ghosts thought he was trying to break their line, apparently, because they dispersed. By the time they realized that we were escaping, we were already through the portal. I felt it close just as my foot slipped through.

Bright blue greeted my eyes, and I was relieved to know that we had indeed made it back to the human world.

I turned around to look at where we had come from, and to my surprise, I saw a huge billboard advertising a restaurant-one I knew. The Nasty Burger was a popular burger joint when I was younger, and I was surprised that it was still around. But was more miraculous was the fact that we were, in fact, in Amity Park.

"I guess we ended up here because there's such paranormal activity in this city," Phantom mumbled. He apparently was thinking the same thing I was.

It was weird, seeing this place after I had vowed never to return twelve years ago, forcing my parents to move us to a more rural area. Most of it was the same, with the exception of more buildings and less parks. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. One of the reasons I hated this place was because it cared nothing for its wildlife or ecosystem. Everything was about industrialization, and it sickened me that they destroyed forests and parks for factories that polluted our world.

No wonder I'm a vegan Animal Activist.

"Okay, so assuming your house is still standing, where is it?" His voice broke my reverie, and I had to think a few seconds before comprehending what he had asked.

"The biggest house in the city is the easiest way to describe it," I said simply, which earned me a strange look.

"That really doesn't-" But I cut him off by pointing at the mansion, the only mansion in the town. His mouth opened slightly, but he hid his disbelief quickly and headed towards my old house.

I could see twisting vines that had encased the ivory, but even so, it still looked like it was in good condition. I figured he would set me down and break through the front door, but he just kept flying at it, and I braced myself for impact, not knowing what had come over him.

We never hit; instead, we phased right through the front door, and I choked back my surprise as he set me down inside the house.

My eyes looked around, recalling everything as if I had never left. Dust was accumulating on the furniture, but other than that, everything was as if someone was still living here. My parents had enough money that we could start all over, and we didn't even need to move furniture. I had insisted that we start clean, and they agreed, hoping it would change my outlook on life. Tough luck for them.

I touched the railing of the staircase softly, and memories flooded my head. But I had to push them away. I couldn't get caught up, not with a ghost watching my every move.

"So, you used to live here?" I could tell he felt awkward in the silence, but I didn't mind.

"We moved out when I was nine. I insisted it, actually. But yes, this was my first house."

"You must have been one lucky kid," he responded, still looking around at all the design that was put into my old house.

"Not really. My parents hated the fact that I was antisocial and that I liked darkness. They tried to force their superficial happiness on me. I wasn't like them, and they resented me for it. I usually spent time with my grandmother or by myself."

"So you were always this sour?" I ignored the stab, turning back to him.

"If you were raised in the environment I was, you would understand."

He left it at that, and I was glad, because I really didn't feel like arguing any more.

"So, where are we staying exactly?"

"I guess you can stay in the guest room, and I'll stay in my old room, if my parents didn't come back to destroy it," I replied thoughtfully, heading up the staircase.

We reached the second floor, and I looked down the long hallway. I walked past the master bedroom and headed for the second door on the left: my old room.

It was exactly like I had left it. The walls were a deep purple, the curtains were black, and my bedspread was black atop a king-size bed. The one thing I had, however, forgotten was the artwork that hung around my walls. Many scratch pictures were tacked on my walls-pictures that sent me into a part of my memories I hadn't wanted to recollect.

As I approached the closest picture, I saw vivid blue eyes standing out on the white paper, covered with messy black hair. I guess I was a pretty good artist back then, because the drawing depicted him the way I remembered him, right down to his goofy, child-like smile.

I remembered the time I had been drawing that certain picture. He was bouncing on my bed, rambling on about something. He noticed I wasn't paying attention, and he came over and looked at what I was drawing.

"_Wow, that's really good! It looks like me."_

"_Thanks! Maybe I'll become an artist or something," I said jokingly. He laughed, too, and smiled._

"_Why are you drawing it though?"_

"_I don't know. I guess so I can always remember what you look like."_

That picture was drawn the day before the other ghost took him away.

I could feel my eyes getting wet, and I quickly tried to hide it. Sam Manson did _not_ cry.

"Who is that?" I could hear Phantom's voice somewhere, but I was still in my thoughts.

"His name was Danny. He was a ghost. My best friend when I was a kid." My voice was distant-like it wasn't really me talking, like someone else had said it for me.

"Wait-you were friends with a ghost?" I could hear the disbelief in his voice, and it angered me slightly.

"No one accepted me at school. He did. Whenever I got in a fight with my parents, he was there to make me feel better." I'm not quite sure why I got so worked up-I was eight when he left. But still, he was my first friend. And I couldn't forget that.

"What happened to him?"

"He was taken away by another ghost. He never came back." I slowly backed away from the picture, taking one last look into those piercing blue eyes.

Phantom sighed slightly, and I figure that he felt he shouldn't press the matter anymore.

"It's weird-for some reason it feels like I've been here before, but I know I couldn't have. Plasmius had me for many, many years." It was the first time he really spoke about what had happened to him, and maybe I was going to be able to get somewhere with his past.

"What happened? What did he do to you?" I thought he was going to leave my questions open. He didn't say anything for the longest time. Then he exhaled, sitting down on my bed.

"I can't really remember what my life was like before Plasmius took me. Maybe it was because he ran so many experiments that he cleared my memories from the past. I don't even know how I died.

"I think he used to be a multi-millionaire or something, because where he took me was huge. He had a hidden laboratory, and that was where he kept me. Every day he would try different things, and he would write what he was doing down in a journal. I'm not sure if it was just me, or if he had other experiments too. One I can remember pretty clearly.

"He kept me in a jail-like chamber that was ghost-proof. He came to get me, and quickly injected something into me, which was weird, because I didn't think that was possible. He then strapped me on a table and sent me into this hole in his wall.

"The hole was a portal, and apparently he needed me to get it to work. When he turned it on, I felt like someone was electrocuting me. I realized that ghosts could experience just as much pain as humans, but it's worse, because we can't die again. I passed out, and when I woke up, Plasmius was prodding me, 'hmm'ing and 'ahh'ing. I vaguely remember him call in Skulker, the robotic ghost that we met earlier, and tell him that he genetically engineered another like himself, which apparently was something big, because Skulker gasped.

"I'm not sure why Plasmius wants me back, but I know I need to get a hold of that book that he wrote in in order to understand what happened to me." He finished, and my mouth was open at this point.

I had no idea that he had such a violent past, and for once I felt sympathy for the ghost. No wonder he was crotchety. All he can remember is pain and suffering.

I sat down on the bed as well, and my eyes dropped to the floor.

"We can get that book, if you know how to get to the house. But wouldn't he be staying there?"

"That's the problem. Even if he wasn't there, he'd have it guarded heavily. He knows that I'm after it. He knows I want to know about my past, and what he did that is so astounding."

"Tell me-was he a true business man?"

"I'd assume. Why?" He was confused at this point, and I felt like a million dollars. I thought I had just figured out a loophole.

"If he's up-to-date with technology, which I would assume because he has an advanced technological ghost, that said ghost would have advised him to make a copy of his experiments and his journal, and put it somewhere that would always be around, even if the book was stolen."

"That makes sense-I remember Technus always telling him to reinforce his stuff. But the copy would be hidden in his house, just as protected as the original."

"I think that's where you're wrong. Technus would have assured Plasmius that there was a safer idea than a material copy. He would have told him to upload his files to a computer."

A look of realization washed over Phantom's face, and I held a smug smirk of accomplishment.

"And I know just the person to get the files."


	6. Barriers

AN: If you're wondering why some of this is going up fast, it's because this was a fanfiction I wrote a few years ago, and I wrote about 7 chapters before I went on a hiatus. So I have the basis of some of the chapters and I can just go in an rewrite to make it more cohesive. Unfortunately I won't be able to get chapters up this fast soon because I'll be picking up from where I left off, but enjoy the fast updates for now x3

* * *

"No."

"But Phantom-"

"Look, I'm not dragging in anyone else. One human is enough."

The minute I had suggested my plan, he turned it down, and I couldn't help but get angry. Why didn't he want to figure all of this out?

"I'm not good enough with computers. He can break into anything, no matter how high the security is."

"Then we'll just get into Plasmius's house and take the actual book." I could tell he wasn't budging, and that made me even more pissed off than ever.

"Like you know where it is. Besides, if he's smart, he's carrying it around with him. This could solve everything-why don't you want to help yourself?" I was trying my best to put up a fight, but I could see it in his face that he was reluctant as ever to trust someone else. I wasn't even sure if he trusted me at this point, but he would have to get over that if he wanted me to help him.

"I don't know this kid. What happens when he wants answers? What are you going to tell him? A ghost wants to figure out what another ghost did to him? Yeah, I'm sure that'll go over well." Again with the smartass tone. Why did he always try to one-up me?

"He's the best idea we've got. I can create some shit up to cover, if it makes you feel better. You've got to learn to trust me."

I could hear him sigh, and I looked up at him, met by those dazzling apple eyes.

"Fine. But if anything happens..." I didn't need him to finish the sentence. I quickly whipped out my cell phone and hit the third speed dial.

"Tucker? Hey, it's Sam. I've got a job for you."

As I told Tucker what I needed done, I could see Phantom glaring at me from the corners of his eyes. I felt compelled to stick my tongue out, but that would have been too childish a gesture. And flicking him off wouldn't have done a whole lot of good either; so I glared right back, before continuing with Tucker.

"_And you need this because you're tracking a ghost that you can supposedly see, and you want to know where he went?"_

"Yes, Tuck. Just trust me."

"_Fine, fine. Man, Sam, what kind of ghosts are you getting into? This guy is literally invisible. He's covered his tracks too well.."_

"Just tell me if you can break it or not, Tuck."

"_I better be getting paid for this. Yes, I can break it."_

"Fine, you get in and I'll...get you the 2012 PDA you've been ogling."

"_But...but it's not even in stores yet! How-"_

I found myself cutting him off in slight annoyance at the subject change. "I have connections. Focus Tuck."

I could hear Tucker griping on the other end of the line as he fiddled around with his PDA, trying to connect Plasmius to someone else.

"_Wait a minute-I think I got something here. Vladmir Masters…hmm, sound familiar?"_

My phone had been on loudspeaker, and the minute I heard Tucker say this, I saw a change on Phantom's face, like the name was familiar. I mouthed a question, asking if he knew the person-after all, Tucker couldn't hear ghosts, so he would think that I was talking to myself. Not to mention he's under the idea that I'm alone on this one.

"It sounds so familiar, yet I can't place it," he returned.

"Check it out. It might be useful."

"_Hmm-not much. Then again, they didn't really keep records detailed back in the eighteen hundreds, did they? This guy died during the Civil War."_

Civil War? Where had I heard that one before?

"Okay, so are we looking at a potential life for the ghost? Maybe this was Plasmius before he died?" Shot in the dark, but hey, it could be right.

"_Sam, I think that that was the smartest conclusion you've ever come to. It makes perfect sense-the ghost you told me about is obviously experienced, and he seems to be smart, and rich. Vladmir Masters made his money from the production of war weapons, which would explain the financial aspect. Plus, anyone who knows how to make a weapon so advanced as he did has to be smart."_

I felt smart for once. I had found an answer before Tucker had, and I felt a triumphant grin cross my face for a brief second before returning back to think about the situation. So, Plasmius was old, which meant dangerous. No wonder Phantom had problems getting free.

"So, how did he die then?"

"_It says he was a Confederate soldier, one of Robert Lee's right-hand men. Died in combat by a Union hand." _

That was strange-after all, if he was such a good soldier, you would think that he wouldn't die so easily. But I ignored it, none-the-less.

"Any details on his life before war?"

"_Not really. Normal childhood, went to The University of Wisconsin in Madison…says he made a scientific achievement with Jack Fenton and Madeline McClellan, before being injured by an electric shock from an invention. Other than that, he looks clean."_

Phantom looked at me. "Fenton-I know that name. I know I've heard it somewhere before."

He wasn't the only one. I was well aware of the name Fenton, but I figured it best to not say anything, and instead turn my attention back to Tucker.

"Okay, well, if this is our Plasmius, is there any way to track down his computer?"

"_If it's under the name Masters, I have a feeling I can find it. Wait-yep, I got it! I guess this really is the guy you're looking for. Man, he's got a lot of walls. This might take a while to break."_

"A while? Sam, we're really limited on time," Phantom whined, and I brushed it off.

"Tuck, how long?"

"_About five minutes or so."_

"You call _that_ a while?" I scoffed, and I could here him laugh on the other line. Phantom huffed at the mock joke.

"_Come on Sam, you know me better than that. It's not tapping into his computer that's going to be the problem-we've figured out he's smart. He's probably got some heavy software locking his files up. If only I could just get past…There! Okay I'm in."_

I let out a sigh of relief as he broke into the computer, but I knew he was right. That was the easy part.

"_He's got some pretty old documents on this thing. Oh, wow. I found an old, old picture. It's two men and a woman, and they're standing around this little metal contraption that looks to be solar-powered. I'm guessing our ghost is one of these two, I'm just not sure which."_

"Can you send it to my phone?"

"_Yeah, hold on."_

I got the picture he was talking about, and I understood what he meant by old. It was black and white, very faded, and the scenery looked pretty period as well. Phantom was looking over my shoulder as Tucker continued to talk.

"_Oh, here's another one. This time it's of one of the men and the same woman, with two kids-boy and girl. But it looks like someone tried to scribble out the man…whatever that's about. I'll send it to you, too."_

Tucker sent the file and I opened it, before dropping my phone almost instantly.

Because the boy in the picture was Danny.


	7. Pictures

AN: Already on to chapter seven. Like I said earlier, don't count on all my updates to happen so fast. But be happy they are for now (:

Disclaimer: Nope, nothing is mine.

* * *

"_Sam? Sam! SAM!"_

Tucker's voice was echoing in my head, but I couldn't find the power to pick up the phone, or say anything for that matter. Finally, when I regained control of my body, I quickly grabbed it, and somewhere I could hear Phantom asking me what was going on.

"Yeah, sorry about that Tuck. I'm fine."

"_What was that about? It sounded like you dropped the phone."_

"It slipped out of my hands and I accidentally kicked it under my bed."

Hey, I think I'm finally getting better at this whole 'lying' thing.

"_Umm, alright. So are we looking at a ghost who wants revenge for his family?"_

Tucker's idea was pretty plausible-a soldier whose family was killed and was now seeking revenge. But something didn't seem right. Especially since I was now dealing with Danny's family. I couldn't see his father as being the vengeful type.

"I don't think so, Tuck. If you compare the two pictures, the man you see in both is too…happy to be a murderous ghost. Plus, the pen marks on the man with the family has to mean something. I'm thinking that our man is the second one in the first picture."

"_But that makes no sense. Why would a man have a picture of a family that wasn't his? Hey, wait a minute-I found another picture. Oh, this is interesting-it looks like it's the man and woman that had the children, but the man was cut out of the photo-deliberately. And here's another-with the other man and the same woman."_

I could slowly see the story fall into place, and I felt that Tucker was thinking the same thing.

"What if this guy _is_ the guy from the first picture, loved the woman, but didn't get her? I know it's far-fetched, but that would definitely be a reason for a ghost to seek revenge."

"_Sam, I think you're right. It makes sense; there are a bunch of old photos here, but most of them are just of the woman, or, if the larger man is in it, he's marked out. Obsession, much? Wait-I think I just found something to seal the deal."_

"What? What did you find?"

"_It looks like a document of death-for one of the children of the photo."_

I knew what that meant. It meant that everything Danny had told me when I was a child was true, being killed during the war and all.

"_But here's the interesting part. The boy was killed by this Vladmir Masters. I think that screams revenge."_

I felt as if everything was melting together, like the final few pieces of a puzzle were being put in place. This ghost obviously wanted Danny's mother as a human, but couldn't get her, so killed her son because he couldn't see them together. Deranged, and very one-track, but it made sense. He probably didn't kill the girl just because it would be considered a crime.

"Okay, so we're looking at a human who loved this woman but she married another man, had two children, and then he took revenge on the man by killing his only son?"

"_Apparently the death of a son was a big deal back then. After all, girls weren't allowed to fight. I'm guessing that he felt remorse, though, and let another soldier kill him in battle, because the dates of the boy's death and his own are only a day apart."_

This was what confused me to no end. I had met this ghost-he didn't seem like the guilt-stricken type. The ghost was out for complete and total conquest, and if he had felt bad for killing the love of his life's only son, then he wouldn't have returned as a ghost to finish the job.

"I think that there's another mystery here that we can't figure out until we get more clues. Maybe you should just see what else he has on his computer."

"_Right. Umm…a few more documents of death-looks like he was keeping up with this family in his afterlife. Madeline Carnegie McClellan Fenton, died at age of 57 during accident. That's weird…she fell out of a three-story building…I think she was trying to commit suicide."_

"Or she was murdered."

"_What? Why do you think she was murdered?"_

"Because I think that a ghost who had always loved her thought that he could be with her forever if she was dead."

Tucker was silent for a moment, and at that point I had completely forgotten of Phantom's existence.

"_That makes perfect sense. It says that Jackson Christopher Fenton died shortly after by means of gunshot in the head. Wow, this guy really messed this family up."_

"Anything about the daughter?"

"_Jasmine Elizabeth Fenton, died at age 78 of natural causes. Looks like she stuck it out-it says she majored in Psychology, didn't follow in the family's business, had a son but divorced the father."_

"Family's business? What does that mean?"

"_Apparently, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton were obsessed with ghosts. And that object that they had built with Masters was some sort of 'device to tap into the third world, the spirit realm.' When their boy died, they spent years trying to find him. Wow, these guys were really messed up, weren't they?"_

I could hear Tucker laugh, but my face was as straight as it could be, because I knew that it was true. After all, I had gone into this world already. But I couldn't let him know, and at this point, the portal didn't seem too important. And, another thing I knew that Tucker didn't-Danny had run away to get away from the man who killed him.

"So, they believed they created a portal connecting the two worlds, and because of that, they felt compelled to chase around ghosts that they could supposedly see?"

"_Sounds about right. Looks like Jasmine was probably smart in avoiding it. I bet it hurt to think about ghosts, with both of her parents and her brother dead."_

As much as this was interesting to learn about Danny's past, the past he couldn't completely remember, I figured that it was time to try and break into the files. Who knew if we were being watched or monitored, and I really didn't want Tucker getting hurt.

"Tuck, I think you should try to get into those files now. Make some copies of everything else he has, but we don't know how much time we have."

"_Will do. Let's see…if I were trying to hide top-secret files on my computer…"_

Tucker had a habit of talking to himself, and I laughed slightly. Even though he was about to turn twenty-two, he acted like a kid, and he was the one friend I could trust completely, even if we did argue a lot.

"_I think…I…found them! Damn, he's got this thing locked up good. This has to be it."_

Even though it was some heavy-duty security, I had faith in Tucker. I mean, he's managed to break into police records before, even the bank-not that he is a criminal or anything. But you would think that if he could break that, he would be able to break this.

"_I think some of my software can overwrite his locks-yeah, I'm pretty sure I can do this."_

There was a long pause, and I could hear Tucker on the other line hitting random buttons and random beeping that signaled he had gotten through.

"_Oh no."_

"What? What is it, Tuck?" I could hear the definite sound of a problem in his voice, and it didn't comfort me.

"_I need a password."_


	8. Passwords

AN: Woo, chapter 8! Unfortunately, it's another short one. I like not having school today. Oh, and thanks to those who review. It makes me happy :)

* * *

"A what?" I asked, my disbelief evident. He had made it this far without anything; why did he need a password now?

"_If my software could have broken it, then it would have already. This seems to be the last thing I have to get through. But we only have one shot. If we get it wrong the first time, I'm locked out."_

We were so close! I huffed angrily, sitting back down on the bed with a sigh.

"_I take it you have no idea what his password could be?"_

"I know next to nothing about this guy, Tuck. His password could be _anything._" I'm not sure if I was more angry with Plasmius or with myself for not being able to come up with a password, but I knew that I was angry, and that was that.

I probably would have forgotten that Phantom was beside me if he hadn't said something at that very moment.

"Try 'Maddie.'"

I gave him the strangest look, before repeating it to Tucker.

"Humor me. Try Maddie," I asked him, and I could hear him typing in the background.

"_Oh my God. Sam, you're a genius!" _

I gave Phantom another look, and he held a smug smirk on his face. He had been right; apparently, he had been listening really well.

"_Whoa. There's a bunch of crap in here. More death documents galore. Here, I should probably send all of these to your computer. I'll copy everything and keep them on my PDA too, in case something happens. I haven't seen anything like a private journal, though. It's probably hidden deep."_

"Hey, wait a minute. I'm at my old house, Tuck. I've got to see if I can get my old computer to run."

This was easier said than done. The thing was old, a Windows 98, and it took about five minutes before I even got a home screen.

"Okay, I've got it on, but I'm not sure if I have internet."

"_It's cool, I'll hack into your computer and put the files there."_

"Great. You just made me realize I can't keep anything private on any of my computers." Tucker laughed as he hit buttons on his PDA, and it wasn't but a minute before I could hear the familiar sound of a new file being uploaded.

"_Done. I'll dig around on this guys' computer while you check out all the files I've put on your computer all ready."_

There were a bunch, all of them mainly certificates of death. I pulled out the first and read it aloud.

"Annaliese McLain, born 1954, died 1969 by fire. Was a part of a high school band called 'Ember.' Ironic," I added, laughing slightly. I could hear Tucker snort, telling me that he picked up on it. Phantom just stared at me blankly, and I rolled my eyes before pulling out another file.

"William 'Billy' Franco, born 1972, died 1982 by serious illness. Animal person, loved to play dress-up, constantly played 'pirates.' Poor kid, he was only ten."

"You know, these ghosts were in that line that tried to stop us. Analee or whatever her name was is now Ember, and she was that ghost with the blue flames for hair. Explains where she got her powers from…" Phantom's voice had interrupted me, and I turned to look at him.

"So, that probably means that the rest of these documents are the death certificates of all the ghosts Plasmius is using."

I had forgotten that Tucker couldn't hear Phantom's comment, but he didn't really pick up on the fact that what I said was a reply.

"_Wait-all of those documents are all of the ghosts he now has working for him?"_

I could hear the panic in Tucker's voice, and that could only mean one thing: there was a hell of a lot of them. At that moment I realized we were likely dealing with an apocalyptic sort of situation, one that could end in an all-out war between Earth and this ghost realm.

"Yeah, I recognize these people. They attacked me, that's why I'm now hiding out in my old house."

"_That's not good. There are a lot of them-it'll take a lot to bring them down, Sam. You can't do this alone."_

"I wasn't planning on it, Tucker. I know I'm not the most responsible person, but I'm not stupid!" The grunt of disagree from Phantom earned him the middle finger, which he returned with a rather profane phrase.

"_I think I found something…"_

I could tell Tucker was trying to change the subject, but I didn't object to it.

"_Whoa-man, this guy is definitely not doing legal things. All of these files are about experiments he ran, most of them on ghosts."_

That was it. He had found them. He had found the files that I wanted.

"Put them on my computer, Tuck!" The anticipation was evident, but I don't think he was paying much attention to me, because I heard a low whistle, something Tucker did whenever he was really surprised or taken back.

"_All right. They're pretty detailed, though, Sam. And a lot of it doesn't sound like it's harmless."_

"Tuck, I'm an _Animal_ Activist. Not ghost," I reminded him dully. I thought that I would be able to read the experiments with apathy. After all, ghosts didn't mean anything to me.

Boy, was I wrong.

The first entered file was dated May 17, 1995. But that wasn't what made my stomach hit the floor.

No, it was the first sentence: "I successfully took number 1007 away from the Manson house in Amity Park today.


	9. Discovery

AN: So updates might be a bit slow now. Just warning you guys.

Again, nothing is mine.

* * *

I think my brain had completely shut down, and it must have looked like it too, because I could see out of the corners of my eyes that Phantom was moving up and coming to look at my computer screen. Sad to say, I hadn't quite yet made the connection-sure, the number sounded familiar, but my focus had been centered in on the fact that right in front of me was proof, and a connection.

"Wait-1007…" I could hear Phantom's voice echoing in the back of my head, but it took a few minutes before I could get the feeling back in my body. At that point, I slowly turned to meet his eyes, which were as wide-rimmed as mine were.

I felt myself being sent back in time as I was greeted with the all-too-familiar memory of the small, black-haired ghost boy being ripped away from our existing plane. Over and over, my mind kept etching his face, juxtaposing it beside that of the ghost that was in front of me. There was no freaking way that this was real. And, for once, my mind was rationalizing.

Danny had told me that he had existed sometime during the Civil war, which provided evidence to the sheer fact that he couldn't age. He had already died, which meant he was forever a child. So it was impossible that the young adult that was a few feet away from me could have possibly been the same Danny that I had lost.

There were also the obvious differences in appearance; Danny had deep black hair and icy blue eyes, and Phantom's hair was whiter than snow and his eyes glowed a creepy apple green. But those different traits were irrelevant, because a ghost didn't age.

"_Sam? Sam!"_

Tucker's voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and my attention quickly turned back to him, not daring to meet Phantom's eyes. I could tell that he was confused as hell, and he was looking for answers, so I tried my best to hide the distraught tone of my voice as I talked to Tucker.

"Sorry, I…dropped the phone."

"_Again?"_

Damn, I had already used that excuse. I couldn't think straight any more-well, not like I ever really thought straight to begin with, but my thoughts were incoherent and all staggered.

"Err…yeah. Some of this stuff is just…I mean, I didn't think I'd get emotionally involved, but it's pretty harsh."

"_Fortunately, I think this is probably the worst of them. Man, this guy is psycho. He captured ghosts to run experiments on them, apparently."_

I forced myself to read through the entries, my eyes slowly becoming wet. This was Danny. _My_ Danny. And from the day that he was taken from me, Plasmius, the deranged psychopath that took him away, ran tests on him.

_April 21, 1995_

_1007 is responding well to the artificial ectoplasm, although he broke out into hives at the injection spot, which leads me to believe that his PH balance is not of normal proportions. I successfully removed pure ectoplasm from him before injection, and I placed it with the other vials that I have taken, for later uses. Meanwhile, my project on locating Madeline has turned up dry, and I fear that she is no longer in the Ghost Realm, or she is hiding._

_July 15, 1995_

_After carefully measuring out the chemicals, I injected a steroid-basic compound into 1007 laced with his own ectoplasm. The balance of the PH was thrown off, and resulted in a drastic eye color change to a glowing green, much like the color of the ectoplasm itself. The change caused pain for about a day; the compound seemed to burn his eyes, but that was a minor setback. Vision seemed to increase._

I sneaked a peek out of the corner of my eye to Phantom, who was reading over my shoulder once more, his jaw clenched. I shivered slightly; the look on his face was as if he was living the moment for himself, and I had to keep myself focused and stray from second thoughts about this really being Danny.

_August 2, 1995_

_Reflexes and nerves were tested today. He responded well to the electro-treatment, all nerves seem to respond normally, which means I only affected his physical being. One nerve target sent him into convulsions, and I had to shock him again to numb the nerve, which, in turn, caused his hair to turn white. I'm not quite sure what the sensory nerve had to do with hair follicles, but I'm sure I'll figure it out. 1007 is now asleep in his cell, in pain from the nerve that's regaining feeling._

There weren't many entries after that, and I felt my stomach sink. There, right in front of me, was an adequate explanation that linked Danny to Phantom, and yet the biggest piece of the puzzle was still missing. His age. I scrolled through a few minor entries about other projects, and finally found one that sent my stomach into my throat.

_February 13, 1998_

_I halted my experiments on 1007 temporarily to focus on the composure of his ectoplasm, and I came to find that the nerve I numbed a few years ago seemed to stimulate something in his body that caused him to age. I'm quite sure that this was only a bridge from his human nature, although I've yet to find anything to stimulate a change that drastic. I'm continuing my injections now to heighten powers, if you will. Already he shows signs of light rays with a magnitude that burns through your skull, but I've got a device that keeps his powers at bay. I plan on inducing him with similar powers to my own, and hopefully create an alter ego humanoid that can disguise himself in society._

_January 31, 2000_

_If I'm correct, 1007 has reached his teenage years, and the id of his psyche is complete. I neutralized the chemicals in his brain, basically restarting the mind from scratch, giving him only instinct to go off of. He had tried to attack me numerous times, and I've had to increase security on him. I plan on targeting the super-ego next, to moralize his brain. The ego, then, will follow, and, assuming I succeed, I'll have cleared his thoughts of previous memories or anything of the like._

I must have made some noise, because Tucker questioned what had me so disgusted.

"Have you read this stuff? He took ghosts and used them for his personal experiments. Apparently, this was the first time the ghost wasn't destroyed. And, by the looks of it, he was trying to…give the ghost super powers or something."

"_Yeah, that's what I got from the few entries. But why? It's obvious that he possesses powers that normal ghosts don't. Why would he want to genetically engineer superpowers?"_

That was a good question-one that I couldn't answer. And, had my phone not been put on speaker, I probably wouldn't have ever gotten the answer.

"He was going to create an army of super ghosts to conquer the world."

Phantom's voice echoed in my mind, as haunting as ever. I could see the confusion in his eyes, and there was no doubt in my mind, now, that this _was_ Danny. But the problem? He didn't have any memories from the past, and although I could see the faint look of recognition, I could tell that he was at a loss as to what to believe.

"Tuck…what if his experiments really did have a purpose? What if this ghost was his guinea pig, and his goal was to build a ghost like you build an athlete with steroids, so he could help…achieve some physical task?"

"_Wait. So you're saying that this guy wanted to use other ghosts with heightened powers to do stuff that he couldn't? If he's a ghost, and he's giving another all the powers he has, he would be stuck, and there would be no point."_

"No, I mean, what if he needed more than just one ghost to get something done? What if he felt that the only way to induce the abilities was to brainwash the spirits, and this is just the record for the first ghost?"

"_You mean like…like he's building an army or something?"_

"That's what I'm afraid of."


	10. Choices

AN: SO here's the deal. Somehow I accidentally replaced chapter four with chapter five, so I had two chapters that were the same. 'Race' is now as it should be. Unfortunately I lost the original chapter, so I had to write it from scratch. I apologize if things don't fit, I tried to get it right. Thank you very much BleakRememberance for telling me, because I honestly had no idea. Everything is as it should be now. I hope.

* * *

"_Great. Just great."_

I could hear a few curse words being mumbled as the realization hit Tucker. Even in school, the guy never did well under stress. Needless to say, a threat to the world that we live in was nothing to be taken lightly.

"_So we've got a masochistic ghost out for blood and dominance of the entire world building up a super army of ghosts who can easily beat us on our own playing field because we can't even see them. And we've got an experiment loose that could easily kill. And, chances are, this '1007' isn't on our side."_

I dared to take a look behind my shoulder, and I could see his gaze fixed on the computer screen, his jaw clenched again, the frustration and anger quite prominent. And before I knew it, he disappeared. That was the one problem with ghosts-they could conceal themselves from me if they wanted to, and I knew he had left the room, because I couldn't even feel his presence.

"Crap. Tuck, I have to go. I'll call you later, I promise."

"_Okay, I'll keep reading through some of these files, see if we can get any more information out of them."_

"You're amazing. Thanks, Tucker. Bye."

I quickly hung up my cell phone and briskly moved out of my room. Finding ghosts wasn't all that hard for me, usually, because ghosts wanted to be found; they were lonely, they wanted someone who they could actually talk to. For the most part, at least. But where did you find a ghost that didn't want to be found? I found myself asking this question more and more lately, actually.

My eyes drifted to the door on the ceiling of the hallway. The attic was right above my room, and he _had_ gone up. It was the first place to check, at least. I found, though, when I was pulling the cord, that it would be a harder task than I originally thought. The stairs were very careworn and I was trying to be as light as I could on my feet. Even when I reached the attic, I knew I'd have to keep the charade up. The floorboards were cracking terribly, and there was a thick layer of dust coating everything. The last time anyone had been up there had been me, back when I was a child.

Considering the fact that my mother had a cow every time she heard me talking "to no one," I had to find a place to talk to Danny without my mother ever knowing. It eventually became our understood hideout, our hangout place. But not the entire attic; we had to plan strategically, which meant that we had to think about the room we were over. We had decided that it was safe over the storage closet that my mother never entered and one of the bathrooms that wasn't ever used. A far corner nettled in the back of the attic.

My eyes jumped to the familiar area immediately, a reflex, no doubt. But the scene before me was far from what I had been expecting.

He was kneeling, on the ground, in the corner, apparently deep in thought. His bright green eyes seemed to be fixated on the few toys and books that were scattered. The concentration and intensity he held was overwhelming, and he was radiating such an amount of energy that even I could feel it. I could tell he was trying to remember, and I could feel my heart sink with a sort of sympathy, something that rarely happened.

I heard his voice suddenly, which brought me close to tears (which RARELY happens); it was shaky, and it cracked. Never before this had I seen him without his guard up, and I realized that I was looking at my childhood friend, the boy I nearly died for. Of course, he didn't need to know that little detail.

"I-I remember. This was where we played, where we hid from your mom. And then he took me away…and he took my memories…"

His hands were balled into fists, and I could see a green glow radiate from his pale hands. I took a step backwards instinctively; no way in hell was I going to get in the path of an angry ghost. I'd been there before.

But the explosion didn't come. Instead, I saw his figure slump over, and he looked more fragile than ever. Cautiously I made my way over, not wanting to get him riled up again. I studied him, and in my mind I began to imagine the dark hair and light eyes that he used to have.

I guess he heard my footsteps-then again, who wouldn't in a dilapidated attic with old wood boards that should have been replaced a century ago?-and suddenly fluorescent green eyes met mine.

No sound came out as he opened his mouth, but I could tell he had mouthed my name, seconds before I felt a rush of cold pressing against my body. It took a few moments before I realized that his arms were wrapped around me, and I felt my arms winding around him.

"I'm sorry. Sorry, sorry, so sorry."

He kept repeating the word in my ear, his voice nothing higher than a whisper, and my grip tightened. I was afraid to let go, afraid that if I did, he'd be gone, and this would all be a dream. I could almost see the scene fade out, but we still stood there, embracing for what felt like hours on end. I was freezing cold, and yet I was warm at the same time. Don't ask me how that's possible.

My head had eventually rested on his shoulder, and for once, I didn't pull away. And that's saying something, since the last time Tucker tried to hug me, I punched him in the arm. I'm not the type that revels in physical contact. It was in these thoughts that I began to register the growing wetness on my shoulder.

I looked up, and couldn't believe the sight. Tears were rolling down his porcelain face. Something that wasn't possible. No, I don't mean that they were impossible for Danny-ghosts couldn't cry.

Ghosts were just manifests of energy, and generally took on the appearance before they died. That meant that they didn't have bodies, which meant that they didn't eat, drink, sweat, cry, or do anything else that involved excreting bodily fluids. They could show all symptoms of crying, but their eyes wouldn't make any moisture.

It was then that I realized he felt more whole than usual. I mean, I'm sensitive to touch as well, but generally ghosts feel…thin, like if I tried hard enough, my hand would pass right through.

At this point, moisture was welling up in my eyes as well; whether it was because I feel the emotions ghosts convey, or if I was genuinely overwhelmed with happiness that Danny and I had reunited is still an enigma.

"Danny, you're-you're crying." _Way to state the obvious, Sam._

"So are you," he pointed out defensively, as if I was calling him on it. I shook my head in response.

"No, you don't understand. It's _impossible_ for a ghost to produce tears."

"Maybe it's something Vlad…" He cut off, the name stinging his tongue. I could see his eyes burning again, but his arms still hadn't released me, and I felt like a deer in the headlights as the anger he was feeling was converted into energy and I began to absorb it. And boy, was he angry.

"He'll pay for everything he put me through. I'm going to get my memories back, even if it's by force. I know he has them, somewhere, and I'll find them." The determination in his voice wasn't missed.

"But if he has your memories, how can you remember me?"

"I-I don't know." His tone had softened as he looked down at me. "I guess reading that journal sparked something. I can't remember much of when we were young, at all; just faded fragments of memories. But seeing everything, being here…" He trailed off, and for some reason, I felt a warm feeling growing inside of me. He remembered _me_. His memories had been taken from him, and yet he was beginning to remember, starting with me.

I must have been shivering, because he jumped back, apologizing. I couldn't help but notice the feeling that was missing when he pulled away, and it was like the warmth was gone. Like I said, don't ask how that works.

He disappeared momentarily, coming back up with a thick fleece blanket that didn't have a speck of dust on it. No doubt his doing, I knew. I took the blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders, thanking him softly.

"Look, I know you want to get your memories back, but you can't just go barging in to his house. You know he's going to be well-guarded, and expecting an attack. And, he's obviously powerful. He was able to keep you on the table for years. He knows what he's doing."

He sighed, turning away. "I know. And, I have no idea where to begin. He must have ran so many experiments on me…I just can't remember them. I'm pretty sure he constantly cleared my mind, so that I wouldn't know anything that happened."

"Maybe…maybe we should read more of his files. I'm sure there are more. They might jog more memories, like what happened earlier."

He nodded in agreement, and turned back to me. The next thing is kind of hazy-all I remember is him firmly grabbing on to me, and I could feel the air fly up around me. Then we were back in my room.

He took a seat at my computer, and I was left to read over his shoulder. He scrolled upwards some, and I mentally praised him for his natural ability to work a computer. I began rereading some of the entries that I had already read, but paused on something that seemed to strike me funny.

"What does he mean by 'create an alter-ego humanoid?'" My brows furrowed at the thought, and I pushed a piece of black hair from my face as I continued to stare at the screen.

"That's what I was wondering. And earlier, he said something about creating another 'like himself.' I think there's a lot more to this than we thought…"


	11. Transformations

AN: well, here we go. Like I mentioned, these updates will begin taking longer because I'm writing the chapters from scratch, not revising my old chapters anymore. Please, please review. I need to know if I'm still keeping interest and if people still enjoy this story. Because if they don't...well, it would be easier obviously to just stop writing. Not that I want to, but I need at least some motivation. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.

Thanks for all the favs, by the way!

Oh, I still don't own Danny Phantom or anyone in the series. Sadly.

* * *

"I don't think he was remorseful. This is _Vlad_ we're talking about. He ran thousands of tests on numerous ghosts and killed people. There's no way he felt remorseful after killing me."

We had gone back through the entries, trying to find any other clues that would lead us to more conclusions. Phantom-no, Danny-had been thinking back to what he had heard through the phone. Which, by the way, was a lot. He has amazing hearing and vision. And probably all of his senses are heightened.

"I don't think so either. If he was remorseful he probably wouldn't be stuck in the purgatory state. Plus...I've seen what he can do. He had no problem nearly killing me." I winced as I remembered the familiar pain of the ectoplasmic energy slicing through my abdomen like it was butter. Danny had given me an odd look, obviously not remembering what had happened, but I looked away, trying to pass it off as something else. I was pretty sure he'd ask about that later.

"But I also don't think he would have just...died in battle. He was a weapon maker and too smart to be killed on the front." Danny was pacing now, trying to come to his own conclusions in spite of all the events that had already happened, and I had taken the chair in front of the computer. You know, it was kind of impressive that he wasn't passed out already from the exhaustion. I said kind of.

"So, what do you think killed him then? Why does it say he died in battle?"

"He's Vlad. He's a mastermind. He could have easily forged his own death certificate, and he could find a body that was so mutilated it was unrecognizable and just switch the uniforms." Again, he had a point, but I still wasn't following his train of thought.

"But why? Why would he fake his own death? And how does that explain the fact that he's a ghost now?"

"That's...what I'd like to know. Because he captured me almost instantaneously after I died. Which means...he was already dead?" Well at least now he understood he wasn't making sense. He was making faces in an attempt to figure out what was going on, and had the situation not been so serious, I would have laughed so hard at him.

"He was already dead...but he could blend in to society..." Those words. They were familiar. His voice was a bit spacey, like an echo. And I realized why.

It got me to thinking. If this was, in fact, the circumstance, then this was the missing link to figuring out what exactly he did to Danny. "So are we dealing with some sort of duality? A Jekyll and Hyde situation?"

He paused in his step, thinking for a moment. "Maybe something like that. But I think he's the same man, the same monster, no matter what he looks like."

I nodded in understanding, trying not to think about how much Plasmius had affected my life. And then it hit me. Almost like a 'duh' moment, mixed with the 'ah-ha!' victory. I immediately spun my computer chair around to face the screen and started tearing through the files, trying to find anything that was about him.

Danny seemed to notice I was highly preoccupied, and he walked next to me, watching. Before he could even ask I was already answering. "We've been going through files on other ghosts and the experiments. We haven't tried to find anything about him, maybe before these documents started." I could tell he was nodding, trying to understand, but at the same time I hadn't quite yet filled him in on the lead I thought I had.

It took a while to go through everything. He had done so many experiments on so many ghosts, some of which were obliterated into nothingness. I tried hard not to let that get to me as I continued looking for anything from a personal journal. Finally, I found things.

They were far and few, seeing as they were all written from the time when we thought he actually lived. Some were scans of journal pages, some he took the time to retype them later when he had access to a computer. The first one that had caught my eye had been a scanned copy of the book itself. The corner where the date had been written was faded too much, but the rest of the writing was legible.

_Today is the day I have been anticipating for quite some time. Madeline, Jack, and myself will be attempting to run the portal we've created. I have no doubt it will work. And when it does, when the portal comes to life, Madeline will be so thrilled she won't be able to say no to my proposition to court her. And of course, eventually we will marry, Jack will be my Best Man, and we will have a lovely family. She will see. I am the superior choice for a husband. Well, I must be off. Like I said, big day._

_-V. Masters_

This entry caught me by surprised to say the least. I could tell Danny was a bit confused as well. "It's like...he's a totally different person. He doesn't have any grudge against Jack, like it seems he does later..." I found myself speaking as I continued to stare at the page, trying to figure out if this was just one well-played piece of sarcasm.

"Yeah, but he's still all over Madeline. There's got to be something that happened that changed it all." I knew Danny had to be right. And from the look of this document, he was still alive. So we were close, but not there yet.

Saying I was lucky is an understatement. It was the very next entry that was what we had been looking for. Again it was a scanned copy, and the date was missing, but I could tell it was a few days later.

_I cannot believe this. It's completely unfathomable. I failed. I failed to win the heart of Madeline. The portal worked, but not in the way it was supposed to. I would bet money that the blasted Jack Fenton messed with the impurities that were supposed to bind the worlds together to create the portal. You see, as we turned it on, it first appeared as though it had worked, catch-free. But then the green mist began sparking and spitting raw energy in every direction. I tried to get to Madeline to save her, but I got caught in the crossfire. I ended up in a sanatorium of some sort for a few days, where I was allegedly in a coma. When I woke up, everything had changed. I learned that Jack had saved Madeline, and in turn courted her, which I surmise she only agreed to due to his 'heroic actions.' And as for myself-well, I must spend time researching what I am, but what I can say is the raw energy I was hit with changed me. Point blank, I believe it killed me. Halfway, at least. I will continue research and see what I can discover, even with a broken heart._

_-V.M._

Again with the shock. Danny was the one who spoke first this time, but I could tell he was having a hard time downing all the information. "They made a working portal...that's...amazing."

"Yeah, but you read what happened. Something went wrong. How can you be half dead...?" I found myself asking, turning to Danny. I had noticed his face had paled a little bit, as if he was dreading what was to come.

"That's what I'm afraid of...are there any more pages from this time?" I scrolled through the files, before finding another one that looked to be similar in time frame. "This one looks like it might be close to when he wrote the others," I replied, pulling up the document. Again, no date, but I didn't really care. I was more interested to see if we could find anything about this research he was planning.

_It took a while to run tests due to the need of advanced equipment which I had to design myself. What I have found is absolutely astounding. As I mentioned before, I believe that the portal's energy was too much for my human body to handle, thus killing me, but only half way. What I came to discover is the energy was comprised of ectoplasmic molecules, something associated with ghost energy. The concentration I was exposed to instantaneously absorbed into my body, integrating with my human molecules. _

_Rather than kill me completely, the paranormal energy killed half of me. I'm not too sure how or why, but while I am a ghost, I can force myself to develop a human body, the body I was born with. I am half human, half ghost. The first record of a hybrid to ever exist. I have noticed, too, that with the duality my ghost-like powers are stronger. While most entities cannot produce a figure of themselves in the human world, much less become a solid mass, I can do both quite easily. I can will my ghost form to be visible to the non-trained eye, or I can disappear into the shadows like the rest of them. My human body provides me with twice the energy most ghosts have, and twice the power. What ghosts can do only in their own world such as firing ectoplasm or honing their control over natural objects, I can do here on Earth. _

_There is a lot to be learned about my control and abilities, however I am most diligent and patient to learn. If I can break down my own molecular structure, I can engineer another like myself. And if I can create others like myself, I can have an unstoppable army at my fingertips. I can destroy the life Jack Fenton stole from me, I can take my Madeline back, I can rule the world._

_-V. Plasmius_

Had my heart stopped? I think. Maybe. I'm not sure. It definitely felt like it. I was staring at that screen for way too long, not moving a millimeter. Well, my mouth might have been opened, I can't really remember. It feels like...like it didn't happen. Like the memory is fuzzy.

"Half...human..." I could deftly hear Danny's voice echoing the words written on the old document. As for myself, I was trying to force the imaginary lump in my throat that was caused from all the shock.

"If that's really what he is..." I managed to get out, slowly turning to meet his green gaze.

"Then that's what he wanted to make me..." Danny finished, confusion settling in.

My brain was trying to remember some of the things we had read earlier. One piece of information stuck out in my mind, and I inhaled deeply.

"Danny-he said he succeeded..."


	12. Warmth

AN: Ahh! Chapter twelve. Can't say this is getting easier. It takes a while to write these chapters because in all honesty, I don't have a definite plan for the ending. If anyone has ideas, send me a review or message. I'd love to get everybody's opinion on this story.

* * *

Can I just take this time to recap on how crazy my life is? I'm born a freak that can see ghosts. I had a best friend who was dead. I convinced my parents to move towns. I occasionally work for The Atlantic Paranormal Society because I'm a Medium. I met this ghost on one of our trips. He was attacked and we got sent into the Ghost Zone. This psychopathic murderous ghost is now after both of us. We hacked his computer to figure out what his deal was and found out that my best friend from when I was little is the same ghost I'm with now. And we just found out that Vlad Masters or Plasmius or whatever the hell his name is is only half ghost and more powerful than anyone.

How, exactly, did I get into this mess? I hate my life.

Back to the present.

"I don't know how that's possible Sam," Danny countered softly. I wasn't really sure if he honestly thought it was impossible, or if he just didn't want to believe that it was. "Look at the facts. He was human when the energy affected him. I was a full ghost." I have to admit, he did have a valid point.

"I know, it doesn't make sense. But we have to remember that we're dealing with a psycho mad scientist figure. He developed a portal in the eighteen hundreds. He designed equipment to run tests on himself. We're dealing with a genius, even if he is crazy and out for blood." I could tell Danny was thinking about it, but still in denial. I think I wanted to be, if it wasn't for the fact that there was too much evidence that I was on the right track.

"Look at the facts. He said he engineered another like himself. If he isn't talking about hybridization, then what is he talking about?"

My question had the ghost stumped. There wasn't anything else we could determine from the other documents that would fit the statement. Still, the idea was so far-fetched, I wasn't sure it was even possible.

"I don't know how it's possible," I heard Danny repeat after a while of silence. Ok, I know this is like, major news, but does he really have to be all spacey?

"But I don't think he'd lie. Not Plasmius. He'd be happy that he found a loophole to immortality, as disturbing as it is. And he seems happy. Vengefully happy. But that still doesn't explain what he has done to me." He was talking kind of slowly, like he was thinking about every word.

"You've aged." Ok, I guess it kind of sounds dumb now that I think about what I said. "Thanks for the obvious," Danny snorted sarcastically, waiting to see if I was going to actually go anywhere with the statement.

I sent him a glare before continuing. "Ghosts don't age. Before Plasmius, you were stuck as a child. Now you're somewhere around my age. Whatever you are, whatever he did, you aren't a full ghost." It sounded so factual, I was kind of proud of myself. But I was right, and I knew it; from everything I had seen, everything he could do, he was most definitely not a normal ghost.

"So what, you're saying that maybe I am half-human? Maybe he genetically engineered a mutation that would give me a life back?" I could tell he was skeptical. Again, with the sarcasm. Oh, I wasn't going to let that one go.

"Are you _trying_ to insult my intelligence or something?" Oh yeah. I was offended. I felt I had the right to be. He was giving me this attitude for my explanation, and it felt like he was scoffing at my ideas.

I guess he didn't realize he was hurting my feelings, because I could see his hardened face soften a little. "Sorry, Sam. This is just...a lot to take in. Think about how you'd feel if you were told you were created to be a super-weapon designed to take over the world."

I could kind of see his point. I wouldn't want to believe that I was created for destruction. So I would try to disprove whatever I was to come to any other conclusion. I sighed softly, thinking about how we could tie the loose ends of the mystery here.

"Look, I know it must be hard to accept that you were created for destruction. I have no idea what it feels like, but I know I'd be distraught if I was told I was supposed to kill people. But you're not evil. Plasmius even erased your memories to try and reset your brain, and you still refused to do his bidding. That's got to count for something."

I never really thought I was good at pep talks. No, I think it was just because I hated giving them. But I guess with Danny it was different. I actually felt bad for how distraught he was feeling. Pity, maybe. But not in the wrong way. Ugh, since when did I become a softie?

He gave a small shrug, still looking a bit defeated, and I sighed again. Damn ghosts and their depression.

"We have to figure out if you're half-human." There. I said it, plain and to the point. Sure, it was important, but for the past few minutes I had been wondering if it was possible that Danny was no longer fully dead. "If you are, Plasmius won't be able to track your ghost signature any more and that can buy us time."

"But how?" he quipped, a bit whiny. God, that was obnoxious. It was like he was a little kid again. But I guess since his brain did get reset, and he's a male, he's highly immature.

"What are you, five? I don't know, I figured since it's your body, or whatever, you'd be able to figure it out." I could hear him grunt in frustration at my response, but I didn't really care. Come on, I'm twenty one. He's got to be somewhere near that age, and I don't tolerate people who don't try to act their age.

He moved to sit on my bed then, before concentrating. I watched him, trying hard not to laugh at the fact that his face was rather priceless. Nothing happened. And nothing continued to happen for the next fifteen minutes or so. He finally sighed, slumping over. "It's no use. I have no idea how to even stimulate a human side, if I have one."

What were we supposed to do now? He had no idea how to even figure out if he was like Plasmius, let alone trigger the change. After a while of sitting there in defeat, I finally got something that seemed like an idea.

"What were you thinking of?" I asked, rather randomly. But hey, that's how I work. He gave me a weird look, before thinking back to his thoughts.

"What I looked like when I was alive," he finally returned, giving a small shrug.

"What if...what if it's deeper than that?" He gave me another weird look in response, not following. "What if you have to think about what it felt like to be human?"

"It's a good idea, but I wouldn't know where to start. It's been a century," he replied dryly. "What does it feel like?"

I had to stop and think for a minute. What did it feel like to be human? That was a rather tough question, seeing as I hadn't been anything else. "Warm," I began slowly, trying to think of good words to associate with humanity. "You're alive and warm. And you have emotions-well, I guess you do too, but it's different. It's not just about hate and anger and pain. There's happiness, too. I-don't know how else to explain it," I finished, watching him.

"Wow. That was rather sentimental for you," Danny mocked, smirking. I glared at him, folding my arms across my chest.

"Fine! I was just trying to help, but obviously you don't need it." Words of wisdom: never piss Samantha Manson off if you need anything.

He huffed in frustration, and I figure it was because he thought I couldn't take a joke. Which I can't, if it's an insult. "Not that what you said doesn't help, but I still don't know what to think about. I don't remember those feelings," he pointed out, obviously trying to divert my attention away from the previous mockery.

At first I completely tried to ignore him. Ok, so I can act like a five-year-old too. But after thinking about it, I figured that he wasn't going to get anywhere on his own, and I glanced back at him to see he was patiently waiting-no, almost pleading that I'd start talking to him because the suspense was eating him alive. I sighed, knowing I wasn't going to win this round, before moving to sit by him on my bed.

The cold was kind of weird, but I was starting to get used to it. It wasn't as bad as walking out in a snow storm in only your underwear, but it wasn't a nice summer day either. So how was I supposed to explain warmth?

Uh...yeah. So this is the part that I seriously question my judgment, or lack thereof.

He was watching me, wondering why I had even moved in the first place, so I needed to act fast before I looked stupid. Carefully I placed his hand between mine, meeting his eyes. "This is warmth," I stated. Yeah, it was pretty dumb. But I didn't really know what else to say. "Can you feel the difference?"

He took a while to respond. His eyes closed, like he was concentrating on trying to separate the dramatic difference in temperature from the actual feeling it provided. I continued to study his face as his other hand rested on mine. That didn't really last for long though.

Maybe I wasn't paying attention. I guess I wasn't, because all of the sudden there was something cold on my cheek. I stopped moving, just staring at him. His eyes slowly opened, and when he realized what he had been doing, he gave a sheepish smile and blushed. Wait-do ghosts even blush? I didn't think it was possible. Then again, he's a freak of nature.

His hand fell back to his lap as he withdrew the other I still held, before speaking again. "So how do I know what happiness feels like?" Yeah, he avoided saying anything about what just happened. Figures.

"Well...you cared for Timmy, right?" I began, remembering the child ghost that he had been watching over. He gave a nod in response. "Think about him maybe? Find a memory of him that makes you smile when you think about it. Something that replaces all the negative thoughts."

I felt like Remus Lupin talking about the patronus charm. Haven't read Harry Potter? You suck. Go read that instead. Wait, no, not really. Seriously though, I had to fight back a laugh at the weird irony.

He was concentrating again, and I studied his face once more seeing as his eyes were closed. And in rereading that, I realize how much of a creep I must sound like.

Finally I saw a trace of a smile. But it wasn't a half-smile, or a smirk, or a nervous grin. It was a genuine smile that was being powered by positive emotions. And the next part is where things got really weird.

There was this bright light in my room. But it wasn't from outside or a lamp or something. It came from Danny. I could see the faint lines of a ring of light around his waist before I had to look away because it was too bright for my eyes. When the light died down, I glanced back at his figure and couldn't believe what I saw. There sat a black-haired, blue-eyed young adult looking at me.

I'm guessing he could read the shock on my face, because he glanced down, studying his hands and exposed skin. "Did-did it work?" he asked quietly with wonder. Icy blue eyes met my amethyst ones as I nodded slowly, still staring. He immediately jumped up, moving swiftly to the full-length mirror hanging on the door of my closet.

I know he would argue, but I'm positive that he nearly passed out right then and there. He began hyperventilating, which could have been from the shock but also from the fact that he hadn't had to breathe in a century or so. He began touching his hair, before looking closely at his eyes. He put his hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat, and smiled.

"I'm alive."


	13. Plan

AN: New chapter! Not much I can say here. It's going to leave a lot of unanswered questions though. Sorry! Wait, not really.

Codiak, I had to answer your review. Are you referring to the Next to Normal song? That's where the title comes from. xD

* * *

To be honest, I'm still not sure how everything that's happened so far is even possible. This one ghost-Danny, to be exact-has changed my entire perception of life and death in the short time of two days.

I can't say I wasn't stunned, even fifteen minutes after he had that weird transformation happenstance. After he had spoken, I was still quiet. And he continued admiring his reflection. Narcissistic, much? No, I guess it makes sense. I mean, if that happened to me, I'd be staring at myself for a really long time.

Eventually I ended up beside him, staring at his reflection as well. Ok, ok, I get it. I can be a creep. But it wasn't like that, really! I was just...really shocked, I guess. Because like I said, my whole world had been turned completely upside down within the past two days.

Slowly I reached for his wrist. When I made contact, I kind of jumped a little from the shock. By this point I was relatively used to his chilly touch, and needless to say the warmth that met my hand was a surprise.

Still completely shocked, I pressed two fingers right below the thumb joint that met the wrist, and was surprised again to find a soft pulse.

He had kind of jumped too. I guess now I was colder than him. I mean, I am a Goth, and I rarely go into the sun, so my natural body temperature is lower than average.

"I...I can't believe...this is really happening," I slowly started, my eyes slowly meeting the set of blue in the mirror.

His head turned to me and I then began looking into his actual eyes, not just the reflection. It was weird, to say in the least. I mean, I had gotten so used to those brilliant apple green eyes, and while I always liked Danny's blue eyes, I remembered them in association with a child ghost, not the young man that was standing next to me.

"Me either," I heard him softly, and in spite of the current situation, he smiled. Like the time before, it wasn't a grin or a smirk, but a genuine smile.

I couldn't help but give a small smile in return. Which, of course, I was displeased about. I mean, come on. 'Smile' is not in the job description of 'Goth.' And somehow he could break my reign of darkness. Not fair.

We stood like that for a while, staring into each other's eyes, smiling. It was nice. Yeah yeah, make fun of me, but you have to understand that for how much we've been through, it was nice to have a moment without all the stress plaguing our minds.

Unfortunately we both had a silent understanding of the temporary state, and slowly our smiles faded. "So now what?" he dully asked, not quite ready to be brought back to reality.

"Well," I paused, thinking for a moment, "we've bought some time. Whatever equipment he has that can track you, which we know he must have since he's found you before, can't sense you anymore. Or at least, I would imagine it can't since you wouldn't have the same signature in a human state."

It made sense, but even that didn't make me feel a whole lot better. "Still, we have to figure out a plan. He's going to figure out pretty fast that we've bypassed his censors for now, and he'll come up with a new way to track you. I'm hoping the struggle to find you will buy us enough time to figure out just what his plans are and give us an idea of how to stop him."

He nodded solemnly, knowing that we didn't have time to kill. It really was a race at this point. We had to anticipate Plasmius's actions and be one step ahead. We needed to come up with a plan for inter-dimensional war, and we needed to figure out what exactly we were up against.

"But how? Even if he doesn't have an army of hybrids, he's still got an army of ghosts. We've got nothing." Danny had jump to the conclusion I was heading to first, and while I wanted to commend his anticipation, I felt the dread of his point. We had nothing.

I sat back down on my bed, needing time to process and think. Danny obviously got the message, because he sat beside me, not disrupting my thoughts. Slowly I began thinking out loud.

"I know you said you don't want to get others involved, but it's inevitable now. If he's planning an attack, it involves everyone." I could see him out of the corner of my eye start to protest but stop, waiting for me to continue. Smart boy.

"Danny, the only hope we have is to try and rally some forces while we figure out just what Plasmius is doing. We need to know if he has more successful creations, and we need to know how many ghosts are on his side. Plus we need experts."

He was skeptical, I could read it plainly on his face. "Sam, that sounds all fine and dandy, but I seriously doubt you could find experts on _this._ Your team of investigators doesn't have the proper equipment to fight ghosts. Plus, ghosts can only fight humans properly in the Ghost Zone. That's the only way the playing field can be close to level, and even then they have the advantage of home field. We'd need weapons, something I'm pretty sure people don't make in the line of paranormal."

He pointed out tons of loopholes in the idea, and I sighed, bummed out. There was, however, a potential plan brewing in my mind, but I wasn't about to voice it until I had more knowledge on the matter.

"So you're saying that if, somehow, we managed to rally a group of humans equipped with proper weapons and went into the ghost zone, we could stand a chance?" I questioned, looking up at him.

He met my gaze, and I could see the worry in his eyes. "I guess if you want to put it that way. But really, the front of humans would just need to be a distraction so I could finish Plasmius off. If he's destroyed, I can't see the ghosts fighting any longer. They're not the most loyal of beings. And if their leader is destroyed, that typically means surrendering."

He gave a small shrug, thinking about the idea. "Still, the whole idea is dangerous and thin. We'd need proper equipment if we want to stand a chance against ghosts in their own territory, and people who wouldn't find the whole concept crazy. And we'd need to act fast. The more time we take, the more likely of a chance of Plasmius building an army."

I, however, wasn't too fazed by the precautions at this point. Danny seemed to notice my apathetic nature and gave me an odd look, his brows furrowing. "I hope you've been listening enough to understand that this whole idea is extremely dangerous and we could all die," he blatantly stated, and I gave a cynical laugh in response.

"If we don't do anything, we're going to die. Plasmius will take over Earth and kill everyone. At least if we fight back, we stand a chance." I could tell that I was causing him to think because he started to say something but stopped himself.

"I guess you're right," he finally gave in, not wanting to accept the fact that I had a valid point. "But that doesn't mean we can just jump in head first. We have to plan. We have to find someone that is skilled with weapons, besides Plasmius. We need technology. We need people who are willing to risk their lives." He still had to point out all the technicalities, didn't he?

"So let's plan," I agreed, straightening my back and trying to look business-like. "I know exactly where we're going to go," I stated, matter-of-factly, before jumping up and dragging him off the bed.

"Sam, that's not planning," he pointed out, giving me a glare for my decision-making. I, however, could really care less that he was frustrated with me, because I already had a plan that was slowly falling together. Sure, it was far-fetched, and if it didn't work, then we'd go back to planning Danny's way; I, however, wanted to be the one to come up with the brilliant plan, so I was going to act on it before even telling him my idea.

I guess you could call me selfish. I wouldn't really disagree.

He was still protesting all the way down the staircase and out the front door. That was when his complaints stopped abruptly and his eyes grew wide.

"What kind of plan is this?" he questioned nervously, his eyes darting around as he watched the cars rush by and saw a few people walking around on the streets.

"Why are you so nervous? And can you please stop crushing my hand?" I added, wincing in pain as his larger hand had been gripping mine tightly.

"Oh, sorry," he returned, letting go of my hand before jumping as another car drove by.

"What if someone knows? What if someone sees me?" he babbled quietly, and I rolled my eyes.

"Danny, you realize you look human now, right? Even if there was a ghost, which there isn't, I doubt they would recognize you. And if you would stop acting so suspicious, people would stop staring. You don't have to hide now, you blend in like everyone else," I added in a whisper, before beginning to drag him down the street, much to his protesting.

After realizing I wasn't about to let him get out of this, he began walking beside me, shoving a hand in his jean pocket as the other was still latched to mine. Had it been anyone else, I'd have probably stabbed them with a fork for being in my personal space. Danny, however, was still having problems adjusting, and I figured that holding my hand provided him comfort. Plus it made him look normal, like we were just your average young couple walking down the street.

I...can't believe I just said that. Ugh. He's making it so hard to be Goth.

Luckily Danny didn't really think of holding my hand in _that _way, so we were good.

As we continued to walk, I figured it would be best to strike up a conversation to blend in more. Casually I glanced to him, noticing he was still a bit nervous. "So," I started, trying to think of something to talk about, "I never asked earlier. What memory of Timmy did you think of?"

Truth be told, I was a bit curious. I mean, I hardly knew the child, but he seemed very sweet, and I was rather interested in what made Danny happy enough to become human.

"I, uh...I didn't really think of him," he slowly returned, and I could see a nervous, sheepish grin on his face as his hand that had formerly been in his pocket reached up to the back of his neck.

My brows furrowed slightly and I'm sure I gave him a weird look briefly. "Well...what did you think of? Or what caused the change?" The confusion was pretty evident in my voice, and it seemed to make him more nervous.

"You." That one little word made my head start to spin. I'm really lucky I have a good poker face; I wouldn't have wanted him to read every single thing that was going on through my head at that moment.

He had thought of me. Something about me had made him happy enough to become human. I couldn't even pinpoint all the emotions I was feeling.

Despite my state of turmoil, I nodded and gave a soft "ah," before succumbing to the distress of my mind.

Luckily enough, I saw the sign I had been looking for pretty soon after that incident. "At least they're still here," I murmured softly, approaching the steps that led to the front door.

I pushed the doorbell button, hoping someone was home. Someone who would remember me, for that matter. I mean, it had been a while since I lived in Amity Park. I took one glance up to the same sign I had been looking for earlier, and gave a small laugh. The words 'Fenton Works' were so obtrusive in the neighborhood, it's a miracle I couldn't spot the building from my own house.


	14. Reunion

AN: I'm glad people are enjoying this. Thanks so much for the reviews. They aren't much, but they do help. I love feedback!

I don't own Danny Phantom. I do, however, own the OCs that show up here, just not their last names. Ben is mine, and I guess Andrew and Sara are mine as well.

* * *

Even through the dense brick wall and heavy door, I could still make out a few words that were definitely being shouted on the other side.

"Ghost!"

"Andrew, dear, I highly doubt there's a ghost on our front porch-"

"No, look! That girl is way too spooky-ooky to be a human!"

I glared at the door, trying not to divert the hard gaze to the camera above our heads that I deftly noticed.

Danny, on the other hand, seemed to be having a hard time fighting back laughter, and had we not been under strict surveillance, well-let's just say things would have been different.

Finally I heard a different voice, one that was most likely going to save my skin from being blasted in the hope that I was a ghost.

"Dad, I'll get it. Go eat the fudge Mom bought yesterday." This male was younger, with a higher voice.

"Ooh! Fudge!" Easily distracted. Just as I remembered Andrew Fenton.

Finally the door swung open and there stood a blond male about my age. His piercing blue eyes met my amethyst, and I was dully reminded of someone else.

"Can I help you?" The male finally spoke carefully, studying me, trying to figure out if he knew me.

"Umm, hi, I don't know if you remember me but-" I began, but was quickly cut off by the blond.

"Sam? Is that you?" his voice was somewhat incredulous, but at the same time, I could tell that he wasn't too surprised. After all, I pretty much looked the same way I did when I was a child, save the whole growing up part.

"Hey Ben," I cracked a weak smile. What? Smiling just wasn't my thing. Before I could get anything else out though, I saw a big cheeky grin before I was squished.

And by squished I mean pulled into a great big bear hug.

Fortunately for me, Ben wasn't very stocky, just tall. But still, there was a reason I didn't like hugs, or any breech of personal space for that matter. Seeing as I hadn't seen my friend in over ten years though, I figured I could suck it up and deal. Plus, I was about to ask a huge favor. And tell him everything. So yeah, I could deal.

I stole a quick glance at Danny, who looked rather-pouty? That was odd.

Ben's grip was becoming awfully constricting, and I coughed slightly. "Too-tight," I managed to choke out, which got Ben to let me go rather quickly, apologizing with a goofy grin.

As if on cue, he became aware that I had brought a stranger to his doorstep. "This is Danny Elliot," I spoke quickly. The last name caught Danny by surprise, but he did his best to go along with it.

"Ben Fenton, nice to meet you." The two shook hands, albeit rather awkwardly seeing as Danny was still surprised that someone else saw him. "Come on in," he then added, although it felt like the offer was assumed as we followed him inside.

As we walked into the living room, I saw a woman in an odd-looking suit that reminded me of spandex. Well, at least I knew that the family was still in the ghost hunting business.

She seemed to notice us as well, and she was studying me hard for a moment. "Little Sammy Manson, is that you dear?" I grimaced at the nickname my parents loved to torture me with. Danny, on the other hand, was sniggering, obviously going to use the same nickname later to get on my nerves.

"Hi, Mrs. Fenton," I replied meekly, giving another small grin. She, too, decided a hug was in order, but it was much more careful and didn't hurt my vital organs, something I was grateful for. This time Danny introduced himself, lingering on the last name as if it was foreign, but she seemed to buy it anyway.

"I'm Sam's friend, Danny Elliot."

"Oh, nice to meet you!" she replied, and I could tell that she was glad I made a relatively normal-looking friend. "So, what brings you here? We haven't seen you since you moved over ten years ago!"

Still, the woman showed no signs of malice or contempt for us randomly showing up on the doorstep, and I was grateful.

"Well...it's kind of a long story, and I think we ought to sit down," I replied slowly, my face falling as I began to think back to everything that had happened.

I could see the look of concern on both the Fentons in front of me, to which Mrs. Fenton nodded, gesturing to the couch. "Please, take a seat. Would you care for anything to drink?" I shook my head, as did Danny.

First it was just Danny, Ben, and myself seated around the coffee table as Mrs. Fenton was in the kitchen, no doubt dealing with her one-track mind husband.

"So, what happened?" Ben asked tentatively, curious as to what exactly was about to be said.

"Ghosts plotting an apocalypse," I returned plainly, my face deadpanning.

Ben was confused at first. I could see he wasn't sure if I was joking and he should laugh, or take me seriously. Finally, he inhaled deeply. "Mom, you need to come in here."

"What is it sweetie?" I heard the woman as she emerged from the kitchen. Ben seemed to make a small face at the fact that she still used pet names, but didn't say anything about it.

Ben glanced at me, a silent plead for me to be the one to say it, since I had more information on the situation, so I sighed. "We have information that has led us to believe there's going to be an attack on our world," I began slowly, glancing at Danny who, oddly enough, seemed to be urging me on. I guess he decided it was okay to trust these people. Plus, they were rather fun to have conversations with.

Slowly Mrs. Fenton sat down, also urging me on gently.

"We came to you because-well, you're the only people we know who specialize in weapons and defense in relation to the paranormal."

Mrs. Fenton sat there for a long time, not saying anything, like she was in shock. Finally, she gathered her thoughts back together. "You're saying that you have information about ghosts planning an attack on us?" I guess that was a good way to sum it up.

I nodded slowly, grimacing. "More like taking control of Earth and killing any human that protests."

They both seemed shocked still, so I figured I should take a different approach. "Do you know of a ghost called Plasmius?"

Danny tensed up at the name. Ben also looked a bit fearful now, and it was Mrs. Fenton's turn to nod slowly. "He has...attacked us before. Sometimes he'll show up in Amity Park, sometimes he'll come here. We don't know why, and we can't destroy him."

"He's behind this," I returned softly, looking down. I really didn't like talking about the guy that nearly killed me; then again, we were seeking the Fentons' help, so they needed to know.

"How exactly did you come to this conclusion?" Mrs. Fenton was not about to take the information lightly, and I didn't really think she was going to accept it full on.

"It's a rather long story," I paused glancing at Danny, wanting reassurance that it was ok to talk about the subject. He gave a small nod, knowing fully well the mental question I had posed, and I sighed, looking back to the other Fentons.

"I guess I should start with the fact that I'm a Medium." Mrs. Fenton gasped slightly, obviously not expecting that to come out of my mouth. Ben looked somewhat confused though, so I figured I'd explain it to him. "I can see ghosts in our plane, in our dimension. They look solid, they sound solid, and usually I can touch them."

"Why didn't you tell us before? I can't even begin to imagine a child having to live through such a frightful experience." Mrs. Fenton seemed disturbed that I had kept this to myself for so long, and I felt a bit guilty. I could have come to them. I knew they were ghost hunters, even when I was a child.

"Well, when I was little, I didn't really know," I started slowly, this time not daring a glance at Danny. "I was under the impression that I had an imaginary friend. For a few years I believed that was all he was, but when I grew out of the 'imaginary friend' phase and realized he was still around, I guess that's when I knew."

Ben, this time, was the concerned one. "Did this ghost hurt you?" Again, I felt Danny tense up a bit at the accusation, knowing it was him that was being talked about.

I gave a small laugh in spite of the situation. "No, no. He was my best friend. You guys vaguely remember my parents, right? They were always about social status. And when I was little, I was pretty isolated from the real world. They didn't approve of spending time at a public park or anything like that, so I was stuck in my house with maids and butlers.

"When-when James showed up," I quickly substituted names, not wanting them to draw any conclusions to the young man seated next to me, "I was grateful that I finally had someone who understood me and would spend time with me. Not because I had money, but because he wanted a friend too.

"When he started talking about the Civil War, well, that's when I knew he was a ghost. I mean, I was six, I wouldn't have known about it in order to imagine it up myself. Of course, my parents were startled and upset that I was constantly talking to 'no one,' so I saw a bunch of shrinks and doctors. Of course, none of them came to the conclusion that I was a Medium. Just some attention-seeking kid.

"I guess when I turned eight, that's when everything started happening. My ghost friend kept saying 'he's coming to get me,' and one day I found out what he meant. This other ghost showed up, Plasmius. He took James. He was the reason we ended up moving."

They had all sat in silence, listening to the beginning of the long story that was slowly unfolding. Finally Ben spoke up. "Is he the reason you were in the hospital in a coma for a week?"

I looked down, nodding, not bothering to meet Danny's now questioning and aggravated gaze. I had decided not to tell him about what Plasmius had done to me, and now he knew that something happened, something I neglected to mention.

Mrs. Fenton, thankfully, said something before Danny did, however I'm not sure I'm all that grateful for the interruption. "The hospital? Oh dear, what did he do?"

"Well," I started slowly, looking up at the woman. "He had claw-like nails, and he cut me across my stomach. Considering the fact that I was eight, it kind of did some damage."

She nodded knowingly and paused, no doubt thinking over everything I had just said. "So this first ghost, the young one, he wasn't dangerous?" I could tell she was surprised. Their family was a group of ghost hunters, not investigators, and they all believed that spirits that still came to Earth had bad intentions.

I shook my head in response. "Not that I know of. He was really kind. Plus, he was a child. I don't think he really understood what he could do." I gave a small shrug, still feeling odd about talking about Danny as if he wasn't here.

"So, what does this have to do with this plot to take over the world?" Ben asked softly, trying to sort everything out.

"Well, you see, I occasionally go on investigations with a group. They like me going because I'm a Medium and all. We went to the Waverly Hills Sanatorium, where I encountered a certain spirit from my childhood."

"So you mean to say you met the same child ghost from before?" Mrs. Fenton asked politely.

"Yes, in a way. But he didn't remember anything from his past. Plasmius showed up there, obviously trying to take the ghost back again. We ended up accidentally falling into the Ghost realm."

There was a collective gasp. "You have been in the ghost dimension? Oh, this is wonderful! I mean, from the scientific viewpoint," Mrs. Fenton added, smiling softly.

"Yeah, it was weird. But anyway, we ended up getting out, and we called one of my friends who is great with computers to find information on Plasmius. That lead us to hack into his computer files," I added, giving a sheepish smile, knowing that it was, in essence, illegal.

"That's where we found...some interesting stuff. Plasmius has been doing experiments on other ghosts, which is why he took my friend."

"Do you know why he would be doing that?" Ben then chimed in, and I nodded grimly.

"There's a whole lot more to this story than meets the eye..."


	15. History

AN: Sorry it took a while for the update. Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except for Ben.

* * *

"What do you mean there's more to this?"

To be honest, I hadn't really known where to start in the story, and now that I was actually telling it-it sounded completely insane. How I managed to luck out and find people who wouldn't commit me to a psych ward is beyond my comprehension.

Sara Fenton, Ben's mother, seemed to be taking this in pretty well. Ben was struggling to understand, but I didn't really blame him. I mean, you wouldn't want to believe that a crazy ghost was planning on taking over the world.

I inhaled deeply at the question, knowing this was going to be the hard part to get through. "Well...I guess what I'm saying is this goes back to the eighteen hundreds..." I took another pause, not sure exactly how to continue.

"A long time ago a man named Vladmir Masters was best friends to Jack Fenton and Madeline McClellan." There was a small gasp, and I knew this was a bit of a shock that I was bringing up their ancestors.

"I'm not too sure how much you know about your family, so I guess I'll include everything I know. They went to college together in Wisconsin, a short period before the Civil War happened. All three of them were enthusiastic about paranormal studies, which led to the first ghost portal being developed."

Mrs. Fenton seemed to know about that part. "Yes, I remember my father telling me that my ancestors invented the first ghost portal. I guess the legacy of ghost hunting lives on," she replied lightly, a small smile gracing her face. I couldn't help but smile a bit too.

"Well unfortunately there were a few complications. When they first turned it on, something went wrong and it caused the portal to begin spitting raw energy out in every direction. Jack managed to get Madeline to safety, but Vlad was hit. He ended up in a hospital, and Jack and Madeline ended up together, obviously marrying.

"Unfortunately Vlad was also in love with Madeline. He blamed the accident on Jack and swore to get revenge for ruining his life and his chance with Madeline. But the portal itself did something to Vlad. The energy he was hit with changed him.

"Somehow the energy bonded with his own molecular structure, killing half of him. He was able to change his own structure, allowing him to be a human or a ghost. He also had powers that are not only stronger than a regular ghost, but usable in our own plane of existence."

The two had sat rather quietly, listening. I wasn't sure if Mrs. Fenton was going to doubt this, seeing as she was pretty opinionated on what she knew. "Is that possible? I've never even seen such a thing..." At least she didn't sound as doubtful as I had imagined her to be.

"According to his documents, he's the only person to have lived a half life like that." I gave a small shrug, catching a perturbed gaze from Mrs. Fenton. I knew she wasn't about to condone what we had done, and while she hadn't said anything earlier when I mentioned it, I could tell she still wasn't particularly happy about it.

"So anyway. Jack and Madeline got married, had two kids, and ended up caught in the war. Meanwhile Vlad, also known as Plasmius now, was building weapons for the Confederate army. And one night...he managed to get his revenge. He...killed Jack and Madeline's only son."

Sara Fenton gasped slightly, looking rather shocked. "But he was their friend. How could he do such a thing?"

"He was angry. He had his life taken away from him in one accident, and wanted to put the blame on someone. I'm not saying it was right, by any means. I'm just saying it's understandable.

"So Vlad killed Daniel Fenton, and the very next day, presumably died. I'm pretty sure he faked it though. A few years later, Madeline died. I think he killed her, hoping he could be with her forever if she joined him as a ghost. He never found her after that though.

"Jasmine and Jack tried to get out of the family business. Guess that didn't work too well though," I added with a small smile, before continuing. "But here's where it gets tricky. Vlad didn't just kill Daniel to get revenge, although I'm sure that was a reason. He also...started testing on ghosts.

"I found a lot of death certificates among his files, deaths I think he caused. And all these ghosts he took back to some sort of laboratory and began experiments."

"But why? Why was he doing all this?" Ben asked, looking rather confused.

"He was trying to engineer a half-ghost, half-human like himself. With all the power he had obtained from the accident, he thought that if he could create more, he could have a half-ghost army and take over the world."

Mrs. Fenton stared for a while, rather shocked. "So...do we know if he succeeded?" she finally asked, a bit nervous to hear the answer.

I was stumped. Of course, the answer was yes. But I was afraid that if I told her that, she'd eventually find the clues that led back to Danny and try to run all these tests on him and quite possibly destroy him for his dangerous status. At the same time, telling her no could really hinder us.

"We aren't exactly sure, but we think he's really close if he hasn't figured it out already," I spoke slowly, cautiously trying to play my cards right.

"How exactly do you know he's close?" It wasn't a defiance or an argument against me, she just wanted facts, and I couldn't really blame her.

"Well...remember the ghost child I had as a friend growing up?" I asked, and she nodded slowly, not quite following. "When I encountered him at Waverly Hills, he had aged. Something he hadn't done in a century. He knew Plasmius had run tests on him, and so far he's the only ghost we know that escaped or that didn't get destroyed."

"If he's aging, is it possible that he is one of these hybrid creatures?" Mrs. Fenton asked, and I grimaced internally. I really didn't want to have to get to this part.

"I guess it's possible, but he doesn't know it. He can't remember life before Plasmius and the laboratory." They both nodded knowingly, still trying to process everything.

Ben was the one to actually speak first this time. "But wouldn't not knowing his past and potentially having heightened powers make him highly dangerous to us and our dimension?" And there was the question I hadn't wanted to hear.

"I-I don't know. But I can assure you, even if he does have some sort of heightened powers, he's not dangerous, and he's not hell-bent on destroying us. He wants to destroy Plasmius for everything the ghost put him through."

It was going to be hard to get the Fentons, of all people, to believe this. After all, they thought all ghosts in our plane were dangerous and wanted nothing more than to harm humans in some way.

"He's not-here right now, is he? Our sensors didn't go off," Mrs. Fenton finally spoke, still unsure if she should believe me. Honestly, I couldn't really blame her.

I shook my head in response. "I didn't think that would be a good first impression." I could tell she understood because she nodded again.

"So, I guess this is a bit naïve of a question, but why exactly are you telling us all of this?" Ben this time, and I gave a slight laugh at his word choice.

"We're looking at a war between ghosts or ghost-like creatures and humans. You're the only people I know of who specialize in weapons and knowledge of how to fight ghosts. So I guess...we're here because we need your help."

Danny had remained quiet this entire time, and I could tell it was hard for him to sit through the conversation. I was talking about his life story, and he couldn't remember it. Not to mention the fact that these two strangers were being brought into the picture, and we both knew it would take a lot to get them to trust any sort of ghost.

"Do you really think we need to prepare for war?" Mrs. Fenton asked, and even though she kept her composure I could still read the worry in her eyes. I simply nodded.

Ben interjected, clearly concerned. "But how can we fight them if you're the only person who can see them?"

His question made me think. After all, he was right, as much as I didn't want to admit it. I was the only one who could see ghosts in our plane. Sure, if he had an army of hybrids, they could in theory project a more solid signature than a regular apparition, but I was pretty sure they'd be invisible for the sake of having the upper hand. Plus, we couldn't wait around for an army to walk into our streets.

"Isn't that your job to figure out? You guys are ghost hunters, specialists in technology. I'm sure if I could get Tucker in Amity, you guys could create suits that allowed all humans to see ghosts, at least enough to fight."

"Yes, I can't believe I didn't think of that before! Andrew and I are working on a prototype for a battle suit right now actually. We were preparing for Plasmius's next visit. I'm sure, especially if you could get your technology friend, we could make something like that. And I bet a lot of the citizens here would like to put an end to Plasmius. He causes a lot of trouble here."

Everything was falling into place. We had a family of ghost experts on our side, not to mention I could coerce Tucker into anything. I wasn't sure how much the citizens of Amity Park would cooperate, but it was a start, at least.

"How much time do you think we have?"

"I don't know. But I don't think we should wait. I think we should go into the Ghost Zone and put out the revolution before it begins." Mrs. Fenton looked rather shocked at my forward statement, and I couldn't really blame her.

"But how? We haven't the slightest clue where this Plasmius is located." I glanced at Danny then, who gave me a small nod, understanding my silent question.

"We don't, but James does. He can lead us there."

Mrs. Fenton was a bit squeamish at this statement. Even Ben looked unsure. Finally, she spoke. "Alright...but first I want to meet this ghost. I need to see for myself if he can be trusted."

At first I nodded, knowing it was understandable. But when she said "Let's go, Ben get the Fenton Goggles" with full intentions of me leading her back to this ghost that was actually sitting right next to me, I panicked. Just a little bit.


End file.
